Fate's Paths
by Alenor Peredhel
Summary: REVISED and EDITED....When Elrond's adopted daughter of 16 learns a fragment of her lost heirtage and past, she soon discovers that Rivendell's walls do not hold the entire story of what was lost and she strikes out on her own to find what was forgotten.
1. Edited Prologue

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED/EDITED-Fate's Paths-_Prologue-_

_The Past haunts me every night, teasing me with the last living memory of my mother. I can still hear her voice, speaking to me in the stifling darkness as unfamiliar woodland animals sounded their own loud voices, frightening me further. But her soft soothing words of fantasy creatures eased away my hidden tears and whimpers of fright. She sat there, in the protruding roots of a great tree, holding my tiny hands within hers. I can still clearly hear the quiet fearfulness of my voice as I questioned her stories._

_I can still remember the ragged draw of breath as my mother forced her lips to move so she could speak. It was a raggedness she assured was due to her tiredness from the perilously dangerous events of the day. The innocence of my mind couldn't comprehend then that the unevenness was due to her life slowly creeping away with her lifeblood as it seeped onto the red-soaked leaves beside her. _

_And I can still remember, waking up the following morning, still wrapped tightly in her arms and how she would not tell me more stories when I begged her for them. She was cold, unmoving but I was insistent that she was merely asleep, and so lay there unmoving, so that I would not startle her. When evening stretched overhead and she did not awake and my hunger and thirst grew, I grew frantic. Locked in her arms, unable to free myself-unwilling to even try- I begged her to awaken; there was no answer. _

_The son's of Elrond found me three days later, terrified, cold, tired, soaked and confused as to why my mother was ignoring me. _

_I can still remember the pain of confusion, as one of the twins gently lifted my tiny body into his warm sheltering arms. I could not understand then, even when they told me she would not wake up, that she was truly gone. I refused to believe it for many months to come. I refused to understand but when I could deny it no longer, it was as if all my childish walls had collapsed around me, leaving a scared unprotected girl behind._

_I can still remember it all, like it happened just moments ago, as if I am still living it over and over again. But I cannot remember, all these years later, why my mother had held me in the darkness, telling me everything was alright and whispering her stories so I would not shout out our whereabouts. And though I try to remember, it causes me only grief, as if in my last attempt at innocence, my mind shut down everything but the underlying terror and the feel of a mother's last embrace._

_And one question rings in my head: If I had truly understood what was happening that night, would she still be here with me?_


	2. Edited Secrets Revealed

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap1-Secrets Revealed-

_Thirteen years later-_

Alenor shrieked, diving almost too late as a low-hanging branch swung directly into her path of flight. Stumbling for only a moment she regained her balance to continue her mad dash through the forest. Behind her she could her pursuer, drawing closer, yet the panted breaths seemed to slip slowly behind as if he was reaching the end of his endurance. If she did not trip, she would be beyond his clutches and free. Her mind wandered...

With a second piercing shriek, Alenor fell flat on her face, landing in last year's foliage and pine needles, upended by a hidden tree root. In an instant her pursuer was upon her, flipping her onto her back, where he immediately began to mercilessly tickle her sides.

"Elrohir!" she screamed, writhing, shoving him in the chest in attempt to get him off. She gasped for breath between screams and shouts of laughter. "Mercy! _Mercy!_"

The dark-haired Elf laughed triumphantly, releasing her from his grasp. Still laughing he slumped against the trunk of a large white pine, head bent low, pulling in air with great gulps. "By Eru child! Where did you learn to run like that?" he gasped, brushing back a stray lock of damp hair. "I swear you took me halfway across Rivendell! If not for your clumsiness I never would have caught you!"

Still gasping for her own breath, her ribs feeling slightly bruised, Alenor sat up slowly. Half-glaring at her foster-brother, she curled an arm about her aching middle. Her own dark, curling locks spread across her face, in a tangled wave. Impatiently she blew it out of her eyes; most of it fell back stubbornly. "I...I didn't think you would follow me this far!" she exclaimed, spitting out hair from her mouth. "I thought I'd lost you a couple times."

"And you nearly well did," Elrohir snorted, his breathing coming under control. "And you definitely lost Elladan." He paused, cocking his head to the side, as if hearing something. "No! Wait, I hear him coming. I think your little dive through the prickle bush threw him off."

"It definitely did," Elladan grumbled as he squeezed his way through two bulky pines to sit with them. "I still can't for the life of me figure out how you managed to get enough courage to go through there! I don't think even an Elf would have attempted that one."

Alenor lifted her head, refusing to admit that she had been startled by Elladan's quiet approach. Grinning lopsidedly, she watched as the elder of the twins sank against the trunk of another tree, looking as exhausted as Elrohir. "But then again I'm not an Elf," she crowed, laughing at the look of exhaustion on the Elves faces. "I shall forever remember your faces! Today is the day I almost beat you two."

"There is the key word," Elrohir grinned at her, slouching down. "_Almost_, my dear sister, _almost_."

Alenor turned to him, sticking out her tongue in a childish gesture. "Allow this poor exhausted girl some pride for once in her miserable life!"

Elladan admitted defeat with a short quirk of his lips, but could not resist a final jab. "You don't need any more pride Alenor, it already takes up half of Gondor and Mirkwood. We want Rivendell to stay free of it."

"That's not fair!" she cried indignantly, falling onto her back so she could stare up at the swaying canopy of needles the formed a net above her head. "White pine?"

Both Elladan and Elrohir were startled into laughter. "Always the one to spout random knowledge when she won't admit that she's lost!" they teased her before Elrohir clarified that she was indeed, staring up at white pines.

"Umm..." Alenor pushed herself up on one elbow, while massaging a sore spot with the other as she realized she had lain on a pinecone. "Do I hear bells? It can't be the lunch bell, we just ate...Elbereth's Stars!" she jumped to her feet, panic flashing across her flushed face. "Erestor's going to kill me for me being late!" Before the twins' could respond to the panicked comment, she had rushed off, diving under low-hanging branches impatiently. Once out of eyesight they looked at each other, grins touching their faces. "She gets it from you." they said at once.

"I'm here!" Alenor announced, skidding into her small study room, or the 'torture chamber', as she preferred to call it. She was more then late judging from the angry look on her tutor's face. The Elf was staring at her, his lips pressed in a thin, angry line and Alenor winced, drawing her shoulders up realizing what a sorry state she must look like.

Her dress was hitched immodestly up to her knees, the original color lost under the layer of mud, though it might have been green before her run from her foster-brothers. There were leaves, needles and pieces of other debris clinging to her curly brown tresses. She was caked in dirt, and her face was still flushed with the exertion of two hurried runs. She was still breathing hard, although a smile of triumph was trying to peek across her face.

Erestor struggled to hide a sudden grin as he watched the sixteen year old human girl before him stand defiant but unsure what to do. "You could have taken a bath before you came," he said instead, watching as her hunched shoulders slumped.

"Well I'm still here," Alenor replied grouchily, kicking a piece of dirt on the otherwise immaculate flooring. "I could have just conveniently forgotten that I had a history lesson and gone instead to beg Glorfindel for another fighting lesson." She drew herself straighter, realizing she had slumped. "And plus, I was running from the two fiends of Rivendell, as they were intent on killing me,which is the reason why I'm late." She forcefully stifled a sigh of relief when a grin cracked across Erestor's face.

"Well I have to admit it's a better excuse then last week," he relented. "At least you're here. Did you remember your books this time?"

"Uh...yes," Alenor muttered, tucking a lock of knotted hair behind her rounded ear. She winced as her fingers got caught in the tangled mass.

"Where are they?"

"Invisible."

"Alenor, are you giving Erestor a hard time already?"

Alenor couldn't stifle the shout of surprise, as she whirled around to face Elrond. "_Adar!_" She screamed, clutching both her hands over her heart, hoping to still the wild beat. "How many times do I have to ask you, not to come up behind me like that?"

"A couple more times will do it, I think," her foster-father replied, bending down to give her a quick peck on the forehead. Straightening he looked over her head at Erestor. "Do you mind if I steal her from you for a bit?"

"Not all," was the weary reply. "I don't think she's going to pay too much attention today, and her books, as you have heard, have suddenly turned 'invisible.'"

Alenor blushed, her fingers becoming interested in a loose thread on her sleeve. "It isn't my fault that Elrohir threw them into the mud puddle," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for the Elves to hear.

"He _what?_" Erestor and Elrond exclaimed at once.

Alenor felt her face heat even more. "Well actually," she rephrased, knowing that Elrond would instantly see through any lie she tried to spin. "It was after I put honey in his hair and pushed him into a pile of hay in the stables... _Nice talking to you, but I really have to run._" She tried to brush past Elrond, but he reached out taking a firm, but comfortable grip on her arm.

"I'll punish you after Alenor, but first we need to talk," he reproached her. "Come on; let's go to my study where we can have some privacy."

Alenor grumbled underneath her breath, but knew better then to try and escape from Elrond now. _How is that Elladan and Elrohir always know the perfect time in which to slip away and not get punished because of it? Why am I the one always caught? Why do I never learn!_ She bemoaned her situation. "Elbereth's Stars."

"What?"

"Nothing." She winced, catching Elrond's pointed stare in her direction. "Slip," she muttered.

"That's what I thought."

Alenor winced again, then looked up, realizing that they were walking down a brightly lit hallway. "_Adar_, why are we going to your study?"

"There are some things I need to discuss with you, alone," Elrond replied, softly stressing _alone_. "It's time you learned a few things that are unknown to you."

Alenor looked up at him blankly, blinking slowly, aware of a peculiar change that had stolen over her foster-father's face "Who are you and what did you do to Elrond?" she demanded, hoping that it would bring him back to the present.

Elrond laughed a little, but there was no attempt to make it sound genuine "We'll speak about it in a minute."

_A minute_, Alenor reflected sourly. _From the look on your face you'd think I was going to an execution! Could we possibly lengthen the minute to an hour?_

Her prayers went unheeded, as a few moments later Elrond ushered her into his study, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

Alenor closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, breathing in the familiar scents of the room. The ash from the fireplace mingled gently with the sweet fragrance of nature that poured through the open window. It created a gentle atmosphere for the underlying fragrance of ink and parchment. It was the room where she could speak privately to her foster-father, where she could express her fears and hopes and demand to know what had happened the night her mother had died. The room where she had, over the thirteen short years of her life had gotten so used to finding she could have found it blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back.

"Reliving good memories?"

"Mmm," she replied, opening her eyes to find that Elrond had moved to sit behind his desk in his straight-backed chair. Smiling, knowing that she was going to get in no particular trouble for making Elrohir look like a scarecrow, she moved to sit in her favorite chair, an old, plush armchair that Elrohir teasingly claimed was for 'old ladies.'

After a few moments of easy silence, Alenor stirred, pulling herself out of old memories and spoke. "What was it that you wanted to talk about? I'm sure it wasn't about me tracking unwanted dirt into your study. Is it about me skipping over half my history classes?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow, his face relaying that he had had no previous knowledge on the absences from her lessons. "I wasn't aware that it was over half your classes Alenor, Erestor had only informed that it was a few..."

_Eru, Iluvatar! _

"...But that is not what I wanted to speak to you about..."

_Praise Elbereth's Stars!_

"...It's about your past Alenor."

"Wha...what!" Alenor choked over her own words, her eyes snapping up to meet Elrond's grey ones. "My past?" She was quite sure that her hearing was beginning to fade. Why after sixteen years of inconsiderate silence, despite continuous pestering was the Elf Lord finally telling her? Unconsciously she leaned forward, propping her chin on her fists, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes your past," Elrond said frowning as he gauged her reaction. He softened his tone. "There is no easy way to tell you who are you, and it's going to be a bit of a shock, so don't get too comfortable. Do you remember Erestor's history lessons on Numenor and of the line of my brother?"

Alenor nodded warily leaning back as a trail of unease wormed up her spine, despite the softened tone Elrond's voice frightened her.

"Do you remember the last Kings and Queens of Numenor? And of Elendil?"

"Yes," Alenor replied, straightening her spine, more then a little confused and frightened. "But what does this have to do with my past?"

Elrond took a deep breath, spreading his hands across the desk, looking uncertain on how to continue. "You are related, through direct descent to the last King of Numenor. I'm not speaking of Elendil or Isildur, but of those unfaithful to the Valar and Valinor."

Alenor's back slammed against the yielding fabric of her chair too stunned to speak. It was not what she had been expecting to hear. Haltingly, she managed to get to her feet, the world falling into shades of grey as her mind reeled over with the emotion of what she had just heard. Instant denial raced to the forefront of her mind, trying to protect her from the haunting ring of truth in Elrond's voice. The flimsy defense did little to help.

"Alenor..."

She barely heard the rest of Elrond's words, as she turned around and ran from the room, forgetting to close the door behind her. All she wanted was forget everything she had been told.


	3. Edited Emotional Wreck

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED

Fate's Paths-Chap2-Emotional Wreck-

"Are you going to be alright?"

Alenor made no attempt to pull away from the arm that draped itself across her shoulders and tried to draw her into an embrace. She continued to stare blankly at the pages of book that were resting on her lap. The words were swimming across the page, blurring into an intelligible mess. It didn't matter though; she had ceased trying to read a long time ago. She jumped involuntarily in surprise, as a hand moved into sight, and gently closed the book over her fingers, pulling it away, before setting it next to her on the settee.

"Not quite the happy news you were expecting was it _Tinúviel?_"

"Did you know about my heritage?" Alenor whispered brokenly, glancing up at Elrohir, searching his grey eyes for the answer. Her eyes were the mirror of her despair. "Did you know how tainted I am?"

"It does not matter, whether I knew or not," he hushed her, easing a lock of knotted hair behind her ear. His eyes shone with nothing but love and compassion toward her. "The truth or the knowledge of the past does not change the fact that you will always be my little sister."

A sob clawed at Alenor's throat, urging to be released. She ducked her head, wrapping her arms around herself, as tears began to course down her face in rolling streams. "Why was my _Naneth_ killed Elrohir? What could have possibly been the reason that someone had such hatred against her? Why do I have to be descended from the people who wanted to destroy the Valar and Valinor?" her voice had escalated until it reached an ear-piercing shrill tone. Elrohir was visibly wincing, his sensitive ears more easily afflicted by the pitch. "_Why can't I remember what happened that night!_"

"_Tinúviel, Tinúviel,_" Elrohir soothed, pulling her back into his arms, muffling her voice with his shirt. "Little Nightingale. Don't cry, one day it will all come back to you and everything will be all right."

"You've been saying that for the past thirteen years _muindor_ and I still can't remember!" Alenor screamed her voice effectively, and much gratefully softened by the shirt. "What evil curse decided that I had to be an innocent and fragile three year old when it happened? Why couldn't I have been older? If I had been older I would have known how to protect her, to save her! I would have understood what was happening to us! I could have changed everything that had happened. She would still be here with me! I wouldn't be so alone!"

Elrohir did not reply, but instead cradled her gently, running his fingers through her hair, his skillful finger dispatching the knotted mass that piled atop her head. Wordlessly, Alenor's arms circled about her foster-brother in an instinctive response, drawing him closer, wanting the protection he offered her, wanting to feel loved.

After a long silence, Alenor pulled away, drying her eyes with her fingers, staring at Elrohir, her vision blurring with the remnants of tears. "Thank you...for holding me like that," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks get hot. "I shouldn't have cried like an over spoiled two-year old."

"Nonsense," Elrohir said, a smile touching his face. "But we need to get you out of this stuffy old building and do something fun for a change, but not swimming, I'm wet as it is."

"What else would you consider fun then?" Alenor grumbled, her mood plummeting again, the last thing she felt like was going out to face Rivendell. The feeling that she was tainted because of her past clung like a stubborn bur to her skin.'

"Well...I could find Glorfindel and you could pester him to death or give him a few extra grey hairs. I know that's one of your favorite past-times. Or should I drag Erestor up from some dusty old book instead?"

Alenor smiled faintly, but it refused to stay in place and slid away as fast as it had come. "Not today."

"Very well then, I'll find Elladan and we'll go for a picnic."

"Not today."

Elrohir leaned back frowning, not liking the monotone responses he was getting. "Well you're not being much of much help here _Tinúviel._"

"Please, don't call me by that name," Alenor whispered, standing up brusquely, turning sharply away from her brother. She could feel Elrohir's worried gaze following her every movement, eyes narrowed in a concerned fashion. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"You have never denied me and Elladan the right to call you by your nickname before"

"Well now I am denying you that right!" Alenor snapped spinning around, clutching her hands into fists at her side. She saw her brother recoil at the harsh anger she directed toward him, but refused to let the guilt touch her. "I don't want to do anything fun! I just want to stay here and _die!_" she screamed the last part, her voice taking on the hysterical pitch once again. Fuming, she stormed past him into her bedroom proper, slamming the door shut, with a rattling bang that shook the entire doorframe.

For a moment she wavered on the threshold as guilt overcame her in a rush. The sudden uncertainty of whether she should turn back and apologize to Elrohir, or jump off the balcony and end the despair, swamped her. In the end, torn, she threw herself onto her bed, clutching a pillow to her face, as the tears pushed past the floodgate for the second time that evening. _I can't believe I ever wanted to know who I was!_

For a long moment after Alenor's abrupt departure, Elrohir remained motionless on the settee, hearing the sounds of Alenor's muffled sobs. For a moment he hesitated, unsure if he should try to soothe his sister again or whether to leave her to her peace. Inside, he knew that the worst thing he could do was to go intrude upon her space, in the hopes of comforting her. Alenor's emotions were too closely knitted together for her to face anyone.

Sighing in despair Elrohir hung his head, raking his fingers through his dark hair. _Ai Alenor, you have to let people in sometimes! You can't keep hiding behind that stone fortress of yours forever!_ Elrohir thought, aggravated with the thought that he could do nothing to help Alenor. Sighing in frustration he stood up, casting a last despairing glance at the oak door before departing, knowing that his best option was to find his _Adar_ and ask him the question that was nagging at him.

As he meandered down the welcoming halls filled with sunshine Elrohir cast his mind back to the night he had stumbled across the young mortal girl.

It had been a frosty night, the kind of night you get when October is passing onto November, when Elladan and him had discovered the child. Drawn by the sounds of a terrified child's sobs and cries of hunger, neither had wasted time in searching for the distressed sounds. Yet, neither was prepared to be confronted with the sight of a young girl, caged in the arms of her deceased mother. The silvery wisps of moonlight revealed a corpse that was beginning to rot as the pair lay together in the roots of a great tree:

_Elrohir staggered away from the sight, clutching a hand over his nose and mouth, trying to dispel the gagging smell of decaying flesh. The young girl was alive, shivering with cold and fright. From the glaze in her eyes, both could tell she was dangerously ill._

_Elrohir's eyes drifted to Elladan's and found his own look horror mirrored in his brother's own eyes. "_Gwador_!" he gasped, his voice expressing the grief raging through him at the sight. The human child did not look up, unaware of the presence of the Elves. "We cannot leave the child here."_

_"Look at her _gwador_, she is sick, terribly sick. She may not survive even if we take her into our care," Elladan responded shaking his head in denial, but his eyes strayed to the child, the instinct hammered into him by his father, tempted him to at least try and save the girl's innocent life. "Besides out intent..."_

_"...Was to search out the Orcs and kill them." Elroihr finished the lame sentence, his eyes flashing. "But that is hardly as important as the fate of this young child. We have to at least give her the chance to live a life." Before Elladan could agree, knowing that he would continue to deny helping the child, Elrohir stepped toward the girl and purposefully cracked a twin under his heel._

_At the noise the girl's head lifted slowly, tears lingered in her feverish eyes. "Are Saviors? Mommy said they would come to save me." her voice quivered as she spoke and her eyes searched for the rescuers who she could not see because the clouds had drifted over the moon again._

_"I am a Savior," Elrohir responded softly, crouching down in front of her, so as not to frighten her further. She didn't flinch from him, but looked at him, tears creeping down her cheeks. Cooing softly he wrested the dead woman's arms away from her daughter, flinching himself was his fingers brushed against the girl's fevered skin. She did not seem to realize that she was in peril. It was when Elrohir was about to pick her up, that she spoke again_

_"Mommy's not waking up. She won't listen to me." The child looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Can you wake her up?_

_A lump of tears formed in Elrohir's throat as he looked down into the innocent brown eyes. He was about to force out an answer, though he was unsure of how to explain that her mother was dead, when Elladan stepped up next to him, stepping slowly so as not to startle her._

_"_Tinúviel_," he murmured. "Do you know who she is?"_

_The girl nodded, although a little slowly. "Mommy told me." _

_Elladan crouched down next to his brother, eyes taking pains not to notice the corpse. "Would you like to be an Elven princess?"_

_The girl nodded, curling a tiny hand into a fist and bringing it to her mouth. _

_"Very well then my little _Tinúviel_," Elladan replied, feigned cheerfulness coating his voice. Reaching out he scooped the fevered girl into his arms. "Let's go back to your grand palace where there's a nice big bed waiting for you and a bath."_

_The girl giggled, snuggling against Elladan, reassured by his calm voice. As Elladan was carrying her away, she lifted her head, and her eyes found her mother's body. "Can you wake Mommy up?"_

_Elladan's eyes latched onto Elrohir's over the girl's head. "My brother will wake her up."_

_When the girl's eyes swept over him, Elrohir smiled, nodding, understanding his brother's tactic. Later they would come back to bury the woman in the arms of the tree and when she was feeling better they would tell _Tinúviel _the truth. _

_As they were walking away, _Tinúviel _murmured into Elladan's shirt. "I don't feel good."_

"Elrohir! I don't want a dent in my desk."

Elrohir's head jerked up sharply and he blinked in surprise, realizing he had entered the study without realizing it. "Sorry _Adar_," he apologized, grinning meekly. "I guess my mind wandered for a minute."

"I could tell. What was it that you were thinking about?" Elrond asked, smiling kindly, pushing a stack of papers out the way so he could better see his son.

"_Tinúviel_," Elrohir answered softly.

"She was not faring well when I told her the news. Is she any better now?" Elrond asked in concern, his brows drawing down into a narrowed V. He had heard the worried undertone of his son's voice.

"She's not doing any better," Elrohir reported and flinging himself into the nearest armchair he swung his legs over the arm rests, ignoring Elrond's pointed and disproving frown. "What part of the tale did you leave out?"

"The part about why her mother was killed in the first place."

Elrohir nodded his agreement to his father's judgment. "When exactly do you plan on telling her that part of the tale?"

"When she's ready to handle it Elrohir." Elrond answered. A strong breath of wind blew in through the window, threatening to destroy the neatly stacked reports. Elrond chose to ignore it.

"How will you know when she's ready?" Elrohir asked, gauging his father's reaction. "Right now Alenor's pretty distressed and when you drop the hint there's more she'll...she'll...well there will be no Middle-Earth!"

Elrond glanced back at his dark-haired son, smiling faintly at the description. "Alenor's a smart girl, she'll figure it out for herself that I haven't told her everything and when she is willing she will come to me for the rest."

"That could take a hundred years father!" Elrohir protested, swinging his legs around so he could sit properly in his chair. His eyes had widened in his surprise and distress. "You know how pig-headed she can be!"

"That's exactly why I'm going to need a lever to make her want to ask me faster" Elrond replied slowly. He lowered his eyebrows, and regarded his son with a meaningful and hard to miss expression

"_Eru, Iluvatar_," Elrohir groaned, knowing exactly what the stare meant.


	4. Edited A Piece of the Past

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor, Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED

Fate's Paths-Chap3-A Piece of the Past-

"_Tinúviel_, you're going to miss the evening meal."

"Leave me alone Elladan!" Alenor screamed in the general direction of the door, burying her face into her pillow, hoping that the Elf would get the message and leave her to her false peace.

Instead, against her will that the door remain shut, it creaked open and quiet footsteps whispered across the floor, as Elladan came to her bedside. For a moment he stood at the edge, watching his sister, as she continued to ignore him, before he shook his head, and seated himself beside her.

"_Tinúviel_," he reached out to gently clasp her shoulder in his firm grip, Alenor shrunk away. He tried again: "_Tinúviel_, do you remember the first time I called you by that name?"

Alenor nodded, pulling farther away from the hand on her shoulder. "I said to leave me alone! Do you not you understand the Common Tongue? Or should I speak the Black Tongue since it seems that is the only language you understand?" she added waspishly

"You know I'm not going to leave," Elladan stated. "You know you can't get rid of me as easily as Elrohir. You have known that since the first time you threw a tirade at me. Do you remember that day?"

Alenor canted her head against the pillow, in reluctant agreement, knowing that she was not going be to rid of Elladan's presence anytime soon. Resignedly she pulled her knees under her and sat up, still determinedly clutching the pillow tightly to her. "What do you what? You've already changed the subject on me twice now."

"I want nothing, unless that is just to see you smile," the Elf replied, a wistful smile trailing across his handsome face. "You're pretty distressed about what you heard." It was a statement, not a question.

"Wouldn't you?" Alenor grumbled, reaching out to pick at a thread on a blue butterfly's wing. The old cover of her bed was full of these loose threads, and if need be she should pick at them all, and remain silent until Elladan left. As if hearing her silent plot his hand reached out, covering hers, stilling her fingers.

"Of course I would be upset and confused. I would probably be taking it no better then you."

"Good. Now that you understand what I'm trying to deal with you can leave me alone," she snapped, pulling her hand away, but didn't make the attempt to get off the bed and storm away. She suddenly felt too worn out to even attempt such an act of rebellion. _What kind of angry sixteen year old am I?_ She thought, mentally frowning at her behavior.

"I'm afraid I'm not going to leave any time soon _Tinúviel_," he said gently. "And I can see you are not leaving any time soon either, so we are both stuck here, together. However if you are so eager to get rid of me, I will say this: _I'm not leaving this room until I know that our little sixteen year old sister isn't going to destroy Middle-Earth_."

"Fine. I won't destroy it too badly. Happy?"

"Not really," he replied, frowning at her sarcastic response. "Alenor, remember you are talking to! Mind your tongue." He paused for a moment, giving her a stern glace that frighteningly looked identical to Elrond's warning glare. When she looked down, muttering a 'sorry' under her breath, he continued "You haven't been this upset since...since you well... when you discovered the fact that you couldn't walk quietly as the Elves."

"I was five," Alenor replied snappishly. "And that was after the first time I tried to give Glorfindel grey hairs."

Elladan tried to hide his laugh behind a cough. He failed miserably. "I remember that," he seated himself on the bed, crossing his legs and leaning against the headboard, still trying to hide his grin.

"You're trying to cheer me up, stop it."

The grin remained on Elladan's face despite her dangerous tone. "I'm not trying to cheer you up _Tinúviel_, I'm trying to get you to understand that nothing is different, even though you know something more about who you are. It is all part of growing up, learning things, even things that you don't want to hear, but it doesn't change how we view you, and how much we care about you." He leaned forward, no longer grinning; but he had the serious tight-lipped look to him.

Somehow it reminded Alenor of Erestor when he was upset at her for skipping a class. It was not a very reassuring mental picture and she mentally shuddered. Elladan really had to stop mimicking the scary looks the Elf Lords of Rivendell gave.

Elladan reached out to grasp her hands. "_Tinúviel,_" he murmured, stressing the word with audible urgency. "I will always love you as my little sister, _nothing_ will ever change that."

Alenor attempted to set him at peace with a smile, but a smile just did not want to come. "I know," she murmured, squeezing his hand back. "My mind's just a mess right now; all my thoughts and emotions are crowding together. I'm a little unpredictable."

"Well we need some of that unpredictableness in Ilmadris! It's getting a little boring here, everything's _too_ predictable."

Alenor was forced to laugh at the comical grin that had spread across Elladan's face. "Fine! You win! But first you need to find a dictionary! _Unpredictableness_ is not a word." Still laughing she shoved him backwards, knowing that he had said a made up word just to make her laugh.

"But Alenor! Did you know that I rewrote the dictionary?" He grinned, jumping off the bed as she reached out to swat him with her pillow. "Now come downstairs and have some dinner with the family."

"Not tonight," Alenor said, withdrawing to clutch the pillow against her. "It's too crowded down there. You know I hate crowds and with the state I'm in, I wouldn't be able to take it."

"Then you'd better eat breakfast in the morning," Elladan crossed his arms stubbornly. "Promise?" He slowly started backing up toward the door, facing her with a mock frown on his face.

"I promise! Now get out of here!" Alenor called; tossing her pillow at Elladan as ducked out the door. She shook her head as it missed its intended target and landed harmlessly on the ground.

Glaring at the pillow lying innocently on the floor, she decided that she was too lazy to go and get it and instead rolled over onto her back to stare at the richly carved ceiling beams. A smile trailed across her face as she began to silently read the Lay of Luthien that was carved into the wooden surfaces. Her mind drifted off into slumber.

_"Mommy, I'm scared."_

_"Hush my baby," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she cradled my form in her arms, clasping my tiny hands. "Don't be scared, I'm right here."_

_"Always Mommy?" I asked, resting my cheek against her arms, shivering with cold. "I love you."_

_"I love you to baby but you must be quiet," my mother urged, brushing a strand of tangled hair from my face, before releasing me with one hand to rub warmth back into my arms. Her breathing trembled for a moment as I glanced up confused._

_"Mommy you fine?"_

_"Yes, I'm fine baby," she assured me, trying to show me a smile. It was dark, so I couldn't see that the attempt had failed. "Please honey be quiet."_

_Hearing the underlying note of urgency in her voice and though not understanding it, I complied, snuggling closer, not hearing the wince of pain as I bumped against her injury. "I'll be quiet Mommy. Don't worry."_

_"I know honey," she said, holding me closer. "The Saviors will come and we'll see Daddy again."_

_"Daddy?" I looked up, smiling hopefully, forgetting I was supposed to silent. "Mommy I'm cold. Can Daddy come now?"_

_"Not now honey," she answered. "A bit later. I promise."_

_"Alright," I answered, burying my face in her side. "Mommy you fine?" I queried hearing an unfamiliar note in her breathing. It scared me._

_"I'm fine honey, can you stop talking now?" my mother asked._

_"Yes Mommy," I replied dutifully, struggling to remain silent._

_The quietness lasted for only about a few initial seconds before I could not stand the frightening silence and I moved. "Mommy why did those people hurt us?"_

_My mother's breathing hitched as if for a moment she was unsure of how to answer my innocent question. "'Cause they were bad men honey," she answered at last, trying to explain it to me in a way that I would be able to understand._

_"Bad men?" I looked up, confused. "But why was Daddy with them?"_

_"What do you mean?" my mother asked._

_"I saw Daddy. He was with the bad men," I replied. "Was he pretending Mommy?" I put my head down, shivering again, the warmth seeping out of me._

_"He was pretending. Just like we're pretending to be Elves."_

_"Elves?" I lifted my head for a fraction of second, eagerness shining in my worn face. "I want to be an Elf!"_

_"Then we'll be Elves, but you must be quiet because you can never hear the Elves talk because they're so quiet."_

_"Okay Mommy," I whispered, my voice going quiet._

_"Now we must close our eyes and try to picture what kind of Elf we look like," my mother encouraged me. "And if we're quiet enough, I will tell you another story."_

_"Alright!" I squeezed my eyes shut and instantly the day caught up to me and I fell asleep._

Alenor shot up, tangled in a net of blankets, a scream clawing in her throat, as she struggled to breathe normally. She clutched her hands over her heart, struggling to get her mind to find a state of relaxation. For a moment of confused panic she forgot what her dream had been but slowly it came back to her and she almost stopped breathing again. It hadn't been a dream, it was a memory.

_Adar, didn't tell me everything. He left out the reason why my mother is dead!_ the realization, slapped her across her face, stringing with betrayal. _Why did he do that to me?_ Getting unsteadily to her feet, she stumbled to the balcony, accidentally knocking a vase off her dresser. She hardly heard the crash as she sagged against the door, her shoulders shaking with understanding. Taking a deep breath she swung them open, leaning on the handles as the wind whistled over her face. She shivered with fear, the wind was howling fiercely. She was afraid of any stormy surge of air when it whistled strongly; to her it was a forewarning of a later threat to come.

A sense of unease, of incompleteness tugged at her heart and Alenor found herself gazing towards the distant and invisible eaves of Mirkwood. A lump snagged in her throat as she relived the memory that had showed itself before her eyes. The trees from the memory were not of a familiar nature to her but she felt with a growing _knowing_ that she had been on the other side of the Misty Mountains.

_My Daddy was not pretending, he really tried to hurt us_. A horrified gasp pushed past her lips as the world crashed down upon her shoulders. She turned around and rushed back into her room. She was packing her bags and wrapping her sword belt around her waist, before she even fully realized what she was doing.


	5. Edited Disappearances and Consquences

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED/EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap4-Disappearances and Consquences-

Alenor shivered, as she attempted to gather her cloak more tightly about her battered self. Her foot slipped on a shelf of loose gravel and she fell, instinctively she let go of the edges of her cloak to save herself and instantly the wind, shrieking with joy, tore the clasp away from her throat. It sent her only protection against the wind, billowing into the night. Crying with despair, Alenor struggled to get back onto her feet the wind struck her relentlessly back to the ground. _You cannot give up! Not now, you're stubborn and a determined fool. You can do this. _She tried to encourage herself, knowing the effort was failing.

She took another misstep and twisted her ankle as she fell. Cruel-edged stones tore into the palms of her hands. Angry tears that could have been easily mistaken for the lashing rain, dripped off her nose. She shivered, drenched to the bone. She hardly had the willpower to muster a thought. _I can't get up. It's too hard_, the deceiving thought snaked through her mind, as she knelt there. Her hands curled around the stones, as if the lances of the pain that shot through her fingers would give her the courage to stand up.

A weight dragged at her side, pulling her toward the earth. Dimly, she recalled that her sword was still residing in her sword belt. _I can't walk with this thing attached to my side._ Her numb fingers fumbled for the clasp of the belt. Finding it she forced her fingers to undo it and let it fall away. The weight at her side vanished and gritting her teeth, she pulled herself to her feet. The doubts continued to whisper through her mind. _I can't get up, it's too hard. Lie down, rest awhile._

The wind screamed and tore at her clothes, threatening to grind her face into the stones beneath her feet. Alenor bent her head, wrapping her arms around herself she struggled to put one foot in front of the other. She fought the doubt that whispered stealthily across her mind. It was so hard though, she was so cold, so lost.

She stumbled and did not get up.

XxXxXxXxXx

Elrond awoke with a start, lurching upright to clutch his blankets in a white-knuckled grip. He glanced around his room, looking for the source of his terror. Just outside, he could hear the raging fury of a summer storm, lashing against the panes on the window. He was fully awake. "It was just the storm that scared me," he assured himself, closing his eyes, trying to push away the mental picture of Alenor, out there in the storm, alone and dying.

"_Adar?_"

Elrond shifted his gaze to the voice as he heard his bedroom door creak open and the whisper of footsteps pattered to his bedside. "What is it Elrohir?" he asked, fighting for a neutral tone. There would be no point in scaring his son with wild dreams that held no significance to the waking world. "What is the meaning for this visit? You haven't come in here since you were an Elfling."

"I know _Adar_," Elrohir replied, softly his voice trembled slightly. "I had a terrible dream though. I'm concerned."

Elrohir's last words were almost drowned out as a cacophony of thunder crashed down across the valley. "Sit here and tell me of your evil dream," Elrond said, patting a spot on the bed that was located next to him. "I'm sure it was caused by the storm. Rivendell hasn't seen once like this for years."

Elrohir nodded his head in reluctant agreement. Restlessly, he seated himself next to his father, watching as a splash of lightening illuminated the room in a blinding and momentary flash. "My dream, it was about Alenor _Adar._ She was in the storm; she was soaked through, and so tired. She slipped but I didn't see her get up."

Choosing to remain silent, lest he betray the sudden terrified leap of his heart, Elrond put a comforting arm around his son, drawing him closer. "It is but the storm Elrohir causing these nightmares," he soothed. "It creates fear from our thoughts and puts it into words and pictures. None of it is truth."

"I know _Adar_," his younger son murmured, turning into his Father's embrace, like a child seeking comfort. "But it felt so real, I could_ feel, Tinúviel_ dying, I could _feel_ her cold. I am almost certain my bed was wet when I awoke, but did not pause long enough to confirm it."

"Hush, hush," Elrond soothed, rocking his distraught son in his arms to comfort him. "It was naught but a dream Elrohir. Naught but a dream." He hoped that his concern and madly beating heart wouldn't betray him. How was that Elrohir had had the same dream he had just experienced? _Please don't let it be a vision! Please don't let Alenor be out there alone_. He looked up, drawn from his brooding when his door opened creaked open a second time.

"_Adar_," it was Elladan, his voice taught with anxiety. "I can't find Alenor anywhere. I had a dream about her. I was worried so I went past her room to make sure she wasn't hurt or anything. She's not there; some of her clothes and her sword are missing."

Elrond released Elrohir as the younger Elf pulled away abruptly. "Are you sure?" he asked his son, his voice rising an auditable pitch, despite the effort to remain calm.

"Yes _Adar_, I checked her room thoroughly, there's no absolutely sign of her. Midnight is not in his stall. I met the stable hand in the hallway; he was drenched but concerned about Midnight's disappearance. He told me he was quite certain that he had taken the horse out of the grazing field when the storm rolled in."

Elrond was out of bed before Elladan had even got the chance to finish. Icy dread tingled up his spin. "We need to set up a search party immediately."

"How _Adar_? The storm will have washed away any sign of her passing. Even the Ranger's will be able to see nothing, and our eyesight is not meant to pick up those small details, we will be no help."

Forcing himself to breathe normally, Elrond peered at his sons faces, seeing the stark reign of terror residing there, as brief splashes of lightning lit the room. Sighing, knowing how scared they were, he reached out, and wordlessly his sons rushed into the embrace, falling into his arms at once, tears trailed down their faces. "Don't cry," he tried to soothe them, tried to change what their minds had come to realize. "She will be alright. Don't worry. We will send out a search party once the storm passes us by."

"It will be too late by then!" Elladan protested, trying to back away from the the grip his Elrond held him in, but his father refused to let him go so he reluctantly relented to the security that was offered. "Just like it was too late for _Naneth_."

"No, no," Elrond whispered, struggling to keep his voice strong "It will not be too late. We found your mother, we will find Alenor. Don't despair; there is no reason for needless fright. Alenor is strong, we both know that."

"Strong enough to endure this storm?" Elrohir demanded, turning his tear-streaked eyes up. "Not even an Elf would be able to survive something like this."

"But then again she is not an Elf," Elladan attempted a stab of humor "_Adar, _you're right." He managed to wriggle himself out of the embrace, rubbing his eyes dry, Elrohir following Elladan a moment after. "Here we cry like spoilt Elflings when we can do something to help."

Elrohir's turned to his brother, catching his thoughts. "I agree. We can go down to the kitchens and prepare the food and inventory checks for the search parties that we can send out tomorrow." Before Elrond could either protest or agree, his sons had already left the room with a measured grace of rigidity.

Seeing no point in protest, he let them go. His sons were experienced with the impending chaos and worrying that accompanied search parties. They were more then capable of setting one in motion.. It would take their minds off Alenor's predicament. _But what can I do?_ Elrond turned and walked to his bay window to gaze out at the lash of wind and rain. _Ai Valar and Eru, keep Alenor safe_.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

A cool wind brushed across Elladan's face, tugging loose strands of hair across his face. Irritably he brushed them away as he stood up in the stirrups, scrutinizing the area around him for any sign of life. Other then the wind, nothing stirred. "Everything has been washed away by the storm last night." He turned around to face the man standing next to him. "Halbarad!"

The Ranger looked up, alert and awake. "What do you need Elladan?" he asked.

"Can you scout ahead?" Elladan asked. "I don't think Alenor could have wandered very far after she was unhorsed." He shielded his eyes with a fair hand, looking over the rocky terrain, desperately searching for any sign of his foster-sister.

"My lord Elladan!"

The uncommonly breathless shout brought Elladan back to Middle-Earth. "What is it?" he asked the Elf that was threading his way towards him. The comment came out on a sharper then he intended. "What did you find?"

The Elf skidded to a halt, almost tumbling over his feet, but Halbarad's quick reflexes caught him before his face connected with the ground. His face red with the embarrassment, the Elf straightened, consciously brushing away the dust from his clothes. "My lord, I found Midnight."

"Where? Is he alright?" Elladan hurriedly dismounted.

"My lord," The Elf said in soft voice. "He's dead. There's a ravine a little ways from here." He waved an arm back. "He's….He's at the bottom my lord."

Elladan's cried out in anguish, sinking to the ground, burying his face in his hands, rocking back and forth on his heels, if Midnight was dead, Alenor couldn't be far from him. . He barely registered Halbarad's hand on his shoulder, as the Ranger tried to ease his pain. "Was there...?"

"Alenor wasn't near the horse," the Elf added quietly. "I'm sorry my lord, but I found possible drag marks and blood in an overhang of some rocks. I found her sword near the same area."

Elladan keenly felt the sharp stones digging into the flesh of his knees. He shook his head vehemently He shook his head, trembling as his mind tried to come to his rescue and deny everything he had heard. With effort he looked up into Halbarad's face and with even more difficulty he managed to speak; "Go find Elrohir and his search party. Tell them to rendezvous here. Alenor seems to be heading in the direction of the High Pass."

"Will you be alright here? It will take a few hours for me to get there and back. Maybe you should return to Rivendell in the time being?" Halbarad questioned, carefully omitting the correction that Alenor could very well be dead already. He didn't want to add that with the possibility of drag marks, Orcs could have already found her body and taken her.

"Don't you dare entertain the thought Halbarad!" Elladan shouted, recognizing what the change of the man's eyes to a swirling angry vortex meant. "It is not possible!" Inwardly he cringed at his emotions getting the better of him but he couldn't keep a rein on them any longer. The last time he had seen such a look on the Ranger's face it was when his Mother had been ambushed and taken prisoner by Orcs. "It was not Orcs!"

"Of course not," Halbarad soothed, carefully hiding his lie so as no to distress Elladan further. The younger Elf was about to question him, but Halbarad purposefully tread on his foot, quieting him. "I'll leave this instantly to find your brother."

Elladan nodded his assent, hardly aware of anything around him. He continued to struggle with the fear that was slowly eating him, his breathing came ragged in his throat, as all the horrible possibilities raced through his mind, even as his defensives fought to stop it.

After a few moments he managed to regain a semblance of calm and control over his emotions. Taking a shuddering breath he stood to face the young Elf who was watching him. "Take me to Midnight," the words felt thick in his throat, emotionless in his mind. He could see Midnight clearly in his mind. He could see Midnight when he was a young foal and had been a gift from him to Alenor. He could remember how her eyes had lit up, and how she had repeatedly said "thank you" for a whole week before he had threatened to take him back if she didn't stop. With effort Elladan shoved the painful memories away. _Stay on task, stay on task, you must stay on task!_ He shouted at himself, waiting for the younger Elf to respond.

"Yes my lord, right this way." The Elf turned swiftly away, leading Elladan forward.

Pausing only to tell his horse to return home, Elladan's quickly followed after.. The horse pricked its ears forward, listening intently and dutifully turned to home when his Master stopped speaking.

"What is your name young one?" he asked, stepping in line with the Elf. "I think you neglected to tell me earlier."

"_Talagand_," the Elf answered proudly, puffing out his chest in a show of youthful arrogance.

"Harper?" Elladan translated, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. "I'm afraid that's a talent that I haven't been blessed with."

The young Elf blushed, and kicked dejectedly at a rock. "I'm afraid it's not a talent that I'm good at myself. I think my parent's named me so, in hopes that some musical talent might be brought into our family."

Elladan couldn't help but laugh at the honest, but light retort. "The talent will come, I assure you," he promised Talagand. "Just take some more time practicing then out here on search parties."

"Yes my lord," Talagand replied, his face however, remained a bright shade of crimson. He looked up to see the edge of the ravine nearing."Over here Lord Elladan. This is where I found Midnight."

The offhand comment brought Elladan back to reality with such a sickening jolt that for a moment he stumbled but he managed to regain his balance, before he truly fell. Talagand had not waited for him, so he cautiously he picked his way over to where the Elf was standing.

"Midnight's at the bottom," Talagan reported dutifully, pointing down, when Elladan had managed to pull himself to the edge. "The drags marks are not to far from here. Do you want me to show them to you?"

"One moment," Elladan replied, pushing away all emotion. "Help me down, I want to see how the horse died."

"My lord!" The Elf exclaimed shocked and more then a little frightened. "The sides are too sheer; you'll hurt yourself, if you try to go down."

"Nonsense, I have to see this for myself. If Midnight's at the bottom an Alenor's not, she must have gotten out somehow," Elladan replied resolutely, glancing down. A lump formed in his throat as he saw the recognizable, but still form of Midnight, lying at the bottom. A settling of dust coated his black body and his back legs were spread at awkward angles. "Is that blood on him?"

"I can't be certain my lord," Talagand replied, peering down. "I didn't go down to look."

Elladan nodded, and crouched so he could start making the precarious way down the dangerous slope. "We have to find out for sure, if its blood, it means the storm didn't wash it away..." the rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off as a loose piece of rock gave way beneath his foot. Surprised, Elladan shouted, as he lost his footing and tumbled to the bottom of the ravine. He came to a halt as a shower of rocks and sharp gravel rained down upon him. Above him Talagand cried out in fear, caught between going after his lord and seeking immediate help.

A sharp crack on the back of his head and neck, sent stars exploding through his sight, Elladan gasped, as his vision clouded until it was only a pinprick of light. Above him he could see the sky; it was the last thing he remembered.


	6. Edited When not If

**Disclaimer:** This all belongs to Tolkien, however, I do own Talagand, Alenor, Sebastian, Victoria, and Breil.

* * *

Fate's Paths-Chap5-_When,_ Not, _If_,

"I must praise you on your ability to listen, _gwador-nin._ Halbarad tells you to keep out of trouble while he's gone, and you go rolling down a sheer-sided ravine just to spite him. I mean, it's not as heroic an ending as fighting Orcs single-handedly, but it definitely fits in the stupid category. Which, as we both know makes for a few great stories."

Elladan groaned, realizing that he had received the worst form of a wake up call that had ever been invented; his brother, mocking him.

"Elrohir! Shame on you!"

"Sorry _Adar_."

The groan became a slow-spreading grin as Elrohir meekly replied to his Father's rebuke. With an effort Elladan pried his eyes open to see Elrohir and his Father bending over him, concern alight in both their eyes. He carefully ignored it. "What happened?" he demanded groggily. He wondered why his head was pounding so fiercely, He knew he was missing something important in the scheme of things but couldn't fit the missing pieces together.It hurt too much.

"You had your first flying lesson," Elrohir replied teasingly. This time Elrond did not punish him. "And you scared Talagand to death, the poor Elf. I'm sure there are a few grey hairs on his head now."

Instantly memories flashed past Elladan's head and he struggled to sit up. "_Tinúviel!_ Midnight! Are they alright?" In his blind panic, he barely registered the hand that had descended onto his shoulder.

"Elladan, Elladan, relax and lie down this instant," Elrond's voice cut through his panicked mind like a sharpened knife. "Elladan, right now! Or I'll have you mucking out the stables as soon as you get better!"

Giving up, Elladan sunk back onto the mattress, with a soft sigh. His eyes wanted to close, but with an effort his eyes searched out his Father's. "How bad is the injury?"

"Well, you looked like a corpse," Elrohir supplied, smirking. "Does that help?"

"Elrohir, curb your tongue, you're not helping!" Elrond glared at his younger son, though a trace of a smile graced the corner of his lips.

Elladan did not smile in turn, he didn't even see Elrond's face, his eyes were now locked upon Elrond. He had caught the flickering undertone of worry in their voices, something was terribly wrong. "What happened? _Tinúviel_ is she dead?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"No, no, Alenor is alive," Elrohir assured, his words coming a little too quickly and a little to maturely. He bent down, brushing Elladan's shoulder with his fingers. "The search party found her. Alenor, _Tinúviel_, will be home soon."

"You lie," Elladan said accusatorily. "What is it that you are not telling me?"

"Elladan, you're in no condition to be hearing any of this right now," Elrond broke in, gently pushing Elrohir back. "Elrohir is not lying. Go to sleep."

Elladan's eyes darted frantically between Elrohir and his Father, aware that Elrond was reaching for a cup that was situated on the bedside table. "You lie!" he insisted. "I am not some Elfling who does not know the difference between right from wrong! What is going on?"

For a long moment, Elrohir hesitated, indecisiveness flickering across his features, gazing toward Elrond for an answer.

At last Elrond sighed, lifting up the cup with one hand, his other shielding its bottom. "You might as well tell him Elrohir," his voice was heavy with defeat. "As long as you take the sleeping draught when the tale is finished. Promise?"

"Yes _Adar_," Elladan replied dutifully. His eyes returned to Elrohir. "Tell me, I need to know."

Elrohir reached out and took Elladan's hand. "_Gwador-nin_," he breathed softly. "Midnight was not killed by the fall." He paused for a moment, making sure that Elladan had processed the information. "It was an Orc's scimitar that ended his life. His throat had been slit... the blade was found not too far away, along with the Orc's body, crushed under a pile of rock. It killed itself trying to get back up the steep hills."

Elladan closed his eyes, as the headache pounded mercilessly behind his lids. A pained grimace flashed across his face, and he lifted his head to brush the back of his head with the fingers of his free hand. He found exactly what he had been looking for, a deep gash that lay beneath a thick padding of a bandage.

Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes. "Then the Orcs took Alenor?" he was surprised at the deadpan certainty of his voice, it was as if some inhuman part of his mind had already cruelly come to understand that he would lose Alenor like he had his _Naneth_. Despairingly, he let himself sink further into the pillows, staring listlessly at the pattern on the ceiling.

"Yes they have her," Elrohir responded with difficulty, giving Elladan's hand a comforting squeeze. "But we have every search party out there looking for her. Don't worry. She will come home safely."

Elladan didn't respond his mind turning over the recent news. He couldn't think clearly, as the headache pounded with an intensity to rival the drums of a thousand Orcs.

"Elladan," his twin's voice brought him from the teetering edge of insanity. "I have to go now and look for her."

"I slowed you down," Elladan murmured, his eyes traveling toward Elrohir, seeing the concerned look in his eye. "We'll never find her."

"Hush, hush," Elrohir shook his head. "Every search party has been set out; I'm the last one to leave. But you must promise me something. Elladan, can you still hear me?"

Elladan nodded sluggishly, wincing as his head moved across the pillow. "I hear."

"Elladan I want you to get better," Elrohir said urgently, searching his twin's eyes. "_Adar_ is going to take care of you but I want your promise."

"I promise," Elladan whispered.

Elrohir nodded his head, and glancing one more time at his Father he turned and left the room, not looking back, as if fearing to do so would cause his heart to break.

"Elladan, look at me, you need to take the sleeping draught now."

Elladan gazed at his Father, offering no word of resistance. His mind had turned blank, turning restlessly over the known fact that he was going to lose Alenor, like his _Naneth_. He felt himself being lifted off the pillow, and a cup being placed against his lips. Wordlessly he drank and the haven of sleep came almost as a welcome relief.

XxXxXxXx

"My lord!"

Elrohir jumped, and turned to see Talagand separating himself from the shadows of the wall. Shaking his head, Elrohir placed a hand over his heart. "Eru, Talagand you scared me."

"I'm sorry my lord," the young Elf replied, bowing his head, a shade of red crept across his face. "It was not my intention. The Lord Elrond would not allow me within the sickroom, and I am worried about the Lord Elladan's condition..." he trailed off, his gaze coming up sharply and hopefully.

Elrohir sighed, glancing towards the closed wooden door. "He will recover," he lied with an effort, knowing his brother's condition was worse then Elladan or Talagand were allowed to know. "But I would like you to do a favor for me Talagand."

The Elf snapped to attention. "Anything my lord."

Elrohir smiled faintly. "I would like you to keep watch on this door. Your loyalty to my brother is well placed. Watch over him and call attention to any Healer if you notice anything that you feel is wrong."

"Yes my lord," Talagand bowed. "Let me know if you find Alenor. She is missed."

"Not _if_ Talagand, _when_," Elrohir replied, determination steeling his voice. Without waiting for any type of response, he strode down the hall, his boots clicking lightly, disrupting the reign of silence. His hunting cloak swirled behind him, his sword slapped gently against his side. _Not if, when. We will find Alenor. We will save her. There is no if in this._

Presently Elrohir reached the stable, and smiled to see the fourteen men of his command waiting diligently for him. The horses stamped their feet, feeling the nervous restlessness of their Masters' mood. "Is Sunrise saddled?"

"Do you really think we would be so as heartless to keep you waiting?"

Shouting an oath, Elrohir spun around to face the man who had snuck up behind him. "Estel," he exclaimed shortly, glaring as he heard the muffled snickers of his command behind him. "Don't do that!"

"What happened to your hearing?" The Ranger asked, a hint of arrogance peeking into his voice as he stood between two noble-looking horses, his hands holding their reins. "I thought Elves' hearing was superior to other beings."

"Yes well," Elrohir said grumpily, reaching forward and taking Sunrise's reins. "Stop looking so smug Estel, it's only the second time you've ever scared me." He stopped, realizing that something was out of place. "You are back sooner then you said you would be."

The Ranger's face fell as he glanced around him. "A sense of urgency hurried me home," he said at last, his voice low. "I arrived just a few minutes ago, and heard of Elladan's condition. I am deeply worried."

Elrohir raised a hand minutely, warning Estel to go no farther. He followed his Father's wishes about keeping the worst of Elladan's condition a secret. "As we all are," he replied. "Why don't you go see him?"

"Not yet," Estel replied, shaking his head. "There are other important matters. I heard Alenor is missing, possibly taken by Orcs." He waited only for Elrohir's confirming nod before continuing. "I've been away for some months now, in the higher reaches of the North, and I bring with me some ill tidings. Orcs have been moving steadily south to hide in the hidden caves of the Misty Mountains. Their numbers are multiplying faster then we ever anticipated."

Elrohir felt shock cross his face. "Have you just learned this?" he demanded, taking a threatening step forward without realizing it. The implications that Estel set before him stated that finding _Tinúviel_, would become more difficult, to the point of impossible.

"Unfortunately yes," Estel replied softly. "I'm sorry. If I had known this sooner, I would have come."

"No, no, it is not your fault," Elrohir shook his head, looking upon the young man. "Will you come with us Estel? I'm afraid that you know the movements of these Orcs better then us."

For a moment Estel stood there undecided, his gaze traveling back to the Last Homely House, his mind riveted on being there for Elladan. Finally, he turned to look at Elrohir. "Alenor is dear to you, I can feel that clearly. I have only met her on two occasions and briefly but I feel that it would better for Elladan if she were there at his bedside. I will come."

"Thank you _muindor_," Elrohir murmured, leaning forward and hugging the Ranger. "We will have use of you."

"No, not 'we'," Estel said, a jab of hopeful humor in his voice. "Just you, Elrohir. In any case, we'll probably have to dig you out of a snow bank, because you were chasing after ghosts."

The clear, high sound of Elven laughter echoed across the Valley of Rivendell. It was the last sound of joy the valley would hear for many months to come.


	7. Edited Living Nightmares

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap6-Living Nightmares-

It was of the feeling of complete _wrongness_ that pulled Alenor out of murky, black slumber she had been submerged in. Her first awareness was a worried tug of confusion. It felt like things were not what they were supposed to be. Fading in and out of her hearing was the steady drip of water as it splashed onto the floor. The close-by sound of scurrying feet, assaulted her hearing. Whether the noise was rats or actually people, Alenor could not tell. It did not matter. What mattered was that she knew that they were not the sounds she was supposed to be noticing. There was no way in Middle-Earth that she was laying where she had passed out. A hazy half-formed question flitted across her mind, where_ did I pass out?_

Alenor remained silent for a long while, gathering as much information about her surroundings as was possible with the fuzziness inhabiting her head. From what she could gather she was lying in a cave of some sort. She realized this when she accidentally discovered that she was truly hearing the ringing echo of booted footsteps. _Footsteps?_ Alenor felt her breathing become labored with tight panic. It was people or close enough to them. A sense of urgency began to creep through her bones; the sense of _wrongness_ grew, prompting her to move, to run. It felt like there was an invisible weight on her though, pushing her to the ground, urging caution against movement.

At last, she could not hold onto any more patience and Alenor forced her eyes open. The first thing saw was the marred, jagged ceiling above her. Her breath hitched even fiercer with panic. Reaching out Alenor reached out and felt the ground around her; sharp crude edges of stones meant her fingers. She was not covered with a protecting blanket either.

Shivering from the fright and cold, Alenor struggled to gather her scattered emotions. Taking a deep and hopefully calming breath, she began to slowly lever herself into a sitting position. A hand drifted absently to her side. Her hand brushed through air. _My sword. I dropped it in the storm. I'm completely weaponless._ A dull throb rose in her head as all the terror she was feeling rushed to a heightened point. She felt like she could barely breathe.

Forcing herself back to the apparent calmness, Alenor shifted her body into an easy position in which she could get up with almost no noise. As she shifted her left leg, a searing jolt of pain that felt like fingers of fire devouring her flesh, traveled up the limb.

Before she could manage to stifle the scream of pain, Alenor had fallen back onto the rough, floor, tears of agony streaming down her face. Her fingers had found a dead-lock clasp over the source of pain. The pain coming from her leg was unbearable. Struggling she attempted to stem the tears and control the screams of pain that poured from her lips. It was nearly impossible.

Biting down on her lower lip and stopping the last echo of the scream, Alenor remained motionless for a long drawn-out moment. She prayed that she had called no attention to herself by the sudden scream. _My leg's broken;_ the fact came with numbed certainty that jogged her mind into a state of clear-thinking as the knowledge of her danger finally worked its way past the denying defenses in her mind. _I'm in so much trouble! Eru Alenor, couldn't you have thought for once in your miserable life and not run away without any notice?_

Slowly, as no approaching footfall warned her, the tension began seeping from her and a soft sigh of relief escaped her lips. Slumping limply back onto the floor she closed her eyes, and attempted to ignore the protruding rocks digging painfully into her bruised back. The scream had gone unheard or unnoticed. A sudden screeching, like metal grating against metal screamed through her ears. Alenor noticed a little late that she had let her tension go to soon.

The unhurried sound of footsteps drifted towards her. Alenor tried to make herself look unconscious. For a long moment there was silence above her and she began to feel confident that that her cell keeper was going to leave her in peace, when she felt a booted foot connect with her left leg. The attack was sudden, unexpected, forcing a scream from Alenor's clamped lips, and she jerked away, attempting to be free as a lightening bolt of pain twisted up her leg. She only caused herself more pain. Her eyes flashed open involuntarily to meet the leering face of an Orc. Seeing her eyes open he looked at her, a cruel grin donning his ugly face.

"Yer awake," the Orc sneered. "You scream so pretty human. Let me hear it again."

Alenor shook her head, her eyes wide with fright. She pushed herself up on her arms and dragged herself back away from the leering creature. The skin shredded from her fingers as she scrambled for purchase on the jagged rocks. Blood created a gruesome trail behind her. "No, please no," she begged, her leg throbbed with each movement.

Jeering at her the Orc advanced struck at her again and again, laughing in amusement at the screams of pain that came from his victim.

Tears began streaming down Alenor's face, as the pain from the numerous kicks spread through her. Her broken leg was being smashed mercilessly against the floor by the sure-footed kicks of the Orc. It knew how to inflict excruciating pain.

As blackness started to creep over her, the pain becoming too much for her to bear, the door across the room smashed open and a huge, lumbering Orc marched into the room.

"What der ye think yer doing?" the larger Orc exclaimed. Beady black eyes sough out his prisoner lying nearly unconscious on the floor. "Stupid Snaga."

The Orc spun away from Alenor, and cowered away from his leader. Almost sobbing with relief, though knowing that the relief was going to be short lived, Alenor sagged in on her herself, drawing herself into a fetal ball. It was hard to accomplish such a small feat with her dragging leg, but the instinctive fear to protect herselft raged within her.

"Just 'aving a little fun with 'er," Snaga whimpered stepping back. "She's still awake. Still time to hurt her."

"My express orders!" the Orc roared, wrenching his cruelly edged scimitar from its belt loot. Angered he advanced on the helpless Orc. "Yer not to touch her! She's mine."

The Orc collapsed in a shapeless heap on the floor, begging forgiveness from his Master. In towering rage the leader swept upon his minion and cut off his head with a swift, sickening, slice.

Black blood sprayed across Alenor's face, as she watched the events unfold. She prayed fervently that the Orc wouldn't remember her lying there. She prayed that he would forget the human screams that had echoed from this very cell.

Finished with his task the leader turned to her, his eyes shining with malevolence, a sneer on his face. "Take 'er to the central chamber where we can 'ave some fun." He directed the comment to the second underling in the room.

Obediently, the Orc shuffled forward, not daring to disobey the enraged Orc. His fingers dug cruelly into Alenor's arms as he hoisted her into a half-sitting position so he could drag her. Screaming, she fought back, her recent training in defense from her brothers, fled from her mind, reducing her to a pitiful creature striving for survival.

A fierce, unexpected backhand across the face, drew a thin stream of blood across her cheek, leaving Alenor momentarily stunned. Dazedly she fought to gather herself back together, but by that time she managed to gain a slight control, she was being dragged across the floor. She was forced instead to screw her eyes shut as lances pain shot up her leg and her head banged repeatedly against the floor. _I will not scream again. I will not give these twisted creatures the chance to hear me scream again_. Alenor, bit her bottom lip until it was torn and bleeding. She didn't even try to open her eyes, to gauge the route through which they were taking her, she already knew that it would be impossible for her to remember it. Her outer defenses were already crumbling

Abruptly, Alenor's head smashed against the ground, harder then before and her eyes flashed open to see the leader of the band of Orcs glaring down at her. Mustering a glare and using the last of her defiance she spat in his ugly face, knowing instantly it was foolish as she heard the roar of outrage.

Wincing, Alenor was pulled to her feet with her arms pulled above her head. For a moment she fought against them, but a well aimed foot kicked her broken leg and she crumbled, her arms dragging against the manacles tightening about her wrists. The Orcs laughed in response to her suffering.

She was hardly aware that the Orcs had drawn themselves into a large circle, eagerly awaiting for something to happen. A sharp crack of a whip suddenly whistled through the and tore at the flesh of her back. A scream was startled out of her, and she heard the Orcs hoot with glee.

_Do not scream, do not scream_. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes as the whip cracked down, curling around her legs before lashing out. She felt blood leaking down her chin as she tore through her lower lip. With a resounding snap the whip descended upon her defenseless back. Again, again and again it bit at her. Alenor's eyes closed as the pain began to seep through the cracks of her mind, tearing down the resilience she tried to erect.

Sobbing, a scream erupted from lips, as her last defense fell to ash. She pulled at the manacles around her wrist, tearing the flesh of her wrists as the whip came down again, deepening an already opened wound.

Alenor could never recall afterward how long she heard the sound of the whip whistling down, or haunting jeers of the Orcs whispering in her ears. Her mind collapsed upon itself, dragging Alenor down into a world of half-shadows and thoughts. Here she could feel only a distant echo of pain and the distant taunting of herself screaming in agony. Her earlier oath to remain silent, lay crumbled, useless and forgotten.

Her mind came together in shattered pieces, as Alenor felt the presence of the Orcs depart. She felt herself falling to the ground as they released her from their merciless torment. She didn't have the energy to move, to think. She remained there, her body trembling as she began to feel something ebbing around her. Fighting with her elusive mind, Alenor slowly became aware that it was blood. Her blood.

Alenor couldn't find the strength to care, even though she could feel her lifeblood feeding the earth around her. For a vain moment she struggled to pull her shattered remnants of self together, but failed.. Her body ached, it was a distant reminder of something, but she couldn't move. Her effort having exhausted her, Alenor's eyes succumbed to the waiting shadows of unconsciousness, her blood seeping into an ever-widening pool around her.

She didn't see the small Orc, creep into the main cavern. She did not feel anything as he nudged her battered body with his foot. Seeing no response in the human captive the Orc raised his curved dagger above the girl's heart.


	8. Edited Messenger of Dol Guldur

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED/EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap7-Messenger of Dol Guldur-

Bréil, watched uncaringly from a shadowy niche as the would-be murderer crept closer to tortured girl, he made no attempt to save the girl from the cruel edge of the blade. Nonchalantly he held his midnight black cloak easily about his muscular frame. Unless someone looked closely, he was invisible, the black blended seamlessly into the shadows of the niche. _Is the idiot so stupid enough to try and kill the girl?_ He thought, vaguely amused.

The Orc's blade rose.

In split second decision Bréil moved. In a flurry of movement, he flung himself away from the concealing shadows of the cave wall. He moved quickly enough that the Orc wasn't aware of what was happening, until Bréil's hand closed about its scrawny wrist. The blade halted its deadly descent as it touched the unresponsive girl's back.

Whimpering, as its arm was twisted back, the Orc glanced up, and flinched back from the cold, emotionless eyes staring back at him. _"What do you think you're doing?"_ Bréil spat out in the Black Tongue, the harsh and grating words made it useless for him to add a pitch of anger.

Trembling, the Orc surrendered his weapon to Bréi and scrambled back as fast as was possible Mercilessly, Bréil strode after him, the blade now pointed at its owner. _"Answer me _Snaga!_"_

Whimpering gibberish the Orc dove for Bréil's feet and kissed the ground before them. _"Spare me great lord! I did not know better! Weak, mindless prisoner is dead. She breathes not. Mind, corrupted. Stab her yes, make her bleed more. Feed ground._"

Impatient with the mindless talk Bréil pressed the point of the blade between the Orc's eyes, pushing it against the skin enough that a bead of black blood appeared. The Orc went cross-eyed, staring at the blade. He started to make his wordless whimpering again. _"Where's your leader?"_ Bréil hissed through clenched teeth, jabbing the dagger against the Orc's skin for extra measure. _"I have a desire to speak with him, and wring his miserable flesh."_

Still cross-eyed, the Orc pointed toward a side passage that traveled downward out of the cavern. _"That way. Leader that way."_

_"Tthen get going you miserable worm scum! Fetch him for me! The Great Lord of Dol Guldur has sent me. Do you doubt his word?"_

Screeching, hearing the unmerciful name of Dol Guldur, the Orc jerked away, running down the passage he had indicated, without looking back once.

Grinning, into the concealing folds of his cloak, Bréil turned his attention to the unconscious girl. He winced a little as his shoes slipped in a wet pool of blood that was slowly expanding around her. If she continued to lose her life-blood so quickly then there would nothing for his Master to question.

Bréil crouched next to her, and ignored the subtle coating of blood with an executioner's grace. Truly angered, he roughly shook her shoulder. She gave no response. It was as he had feared. Cursing the mindless stupidity of all Orcs, he leaned over to secure her wrist in his capable fingers. A pulse, albeit faint and wavering thrummed against his touch. _She lives_, he thought. Relief flooded through him. With that piece of miracle, he turned his to the more serious wounds.

Lumbering footsteps echoed warningly behind him, Bréil, felt his shoulders tense. _"You are the leader of this band?"_ The footsteps halted, as if the Orc was surprised that a human could speak the Tongue so well.

_"What does it matter to you? 'Famed Servant of Dol Guldur?'"_

_"Is it so wise to denounce his rule and mock his highest emissary? I warn you, do not mock him, for his rule shall one day span over the entire Middle-Earth."_

The Orc laughed, his eyes gleamed with malice. _"We serve no one fool. Not even this supposed Master of Dol Guldur_"

Bréil slowly stood, blending his movements smoothly so that while he calmly turned it looked threatening and angry. Finding that he towered over the Orc, Breil used it to his advantage. _"You are the fool if you do not live under our rule! This girl who lies behind me could pay you a handsome price, if she lives."_ He watched with disgust as the malice was nearly drowned under a wave of greedy light.

Shuffling a little closer the Orc dared a look behind Bréil and to the girl on the floor. Seeing that the girl was very nearly dead, his lips twisted upward into a sneer and jagged rows of yellowing teeth, dared show themselves. _"If ya can save her, human. Ye can have her_. _She has given us all the pleasure she can hold._" The Orc snarled, his eyes hinting at some grotesque happening of the past. _"But I want to be rewarded. What will you give me?"_

_"And a reward you shall have. Does a tithe of land entitled to your clan, with the right of all the hunting you want, sound good enough?_" Bréil spoke his words in a slow, measured tone, careful to make sure that the small bit of information would stick in the Orc's relatively small memory. _"I think we can arrange for this land to be where the Elves live._"

Hooting in glee, for Elves were a rare prize, the Orc stamped his feet, rubbing his dirty mottled hands together. The possible reason of why a half-dead prisoner could be so precious fled his mind. _"Failure to comply human and you won't leave here alive_," he snapped warningly, before turning and lumbering away. _"You are outnumbered here. Remember that"_ The Orc's retinue diligently followed its leader.

Bréil watched dispassionately, as the Orc left him to his peace. The stupid Orc, it should have known that the Master of Dol Guldur would not carry out his promise; one band of pathetic Orcs was below his attention. As long as he had what he wanted in the end, then there was no use in worrying about something else. It was an easy system to dish out, and one that caused little uproar. Those that tried were swiftly silenced. Besides, the Orcs were often too stupid to cause any uproar it was just the humans that caused the problems.

Pulling his mind back to the "here-and-now" Bréil turned to the girl behind him. The pool of blood had widened, barely perceptible, but wider all the same. Cursing, vehemently he crouched down next to her. The corners of his cloak dragged behind him, lapping up the blood in a hungered frenzy.

Patiently, Bréil, reached out and expertly ran his fingers over her injuries, checking their depth and seriousness. He frowned, as his fingers drifted down her back, seeing the most of the physical damage was there. The more minor of the whip injuries were beginning to scab over. He ignored those turning his attention to her hands.

Lifting her hands to examine them, Bréil spat curses to make a soldier blanch, The fingers of her left hand had been severely damaged by the cruel sting of the whip. It was possible that she would lose them if no attention was brought to them soon. Releasing the wounded digits, he tore a long piece of the hem of his dark shirt. With a careless air, he took back her hand and tightly bandaged the cut blooming across her fingers.

As he did this he became aware of the self-inflicted damage to her wrists. They were torn and bloody with pieces of skin dangling uselessly from the wounds. She had torn them in the effort to escape the manacles. Knowing that his resources were too few to bind all her injuries and knowing that it wouldn't matter if she was crippled, as long as she reached his Master alive, Bréil lifted her up, taking no more time with her serious condition. He flung her none-too-gently over his shoulder. There was no response or groan of pain.

Leaving the central chamber, Bréil descended down into the darkness of the Orcs underground home. He moved with an air of confidence that suggested he belonged there, and that it was unwise to contradict him. He wove his way through the twisting passages, knowing instinctively where he was going. He knew that he couldn't get lost, his sense of direction was to keen for that to happen.

Coming to the girl's cell, Bréil pushed the door open with his foot and glared the cell guard into stuttering silence. _"Leave us be,"_ He added as an extra warning.

As he stepped into the rough-hewn chamber the girl moaned. Her voice was hoarse and cracked with overextended use. Surprised, having thought that it would take a while for her wake up, Bréil jumped, and immediately stopped walking. Hardly careful he deposited the girl onto the uneven floor, watching her with cold, emotionless eyes, as she tried to come to awaken. He smiled; it wouldn't be pleasant.

The girl's eyes flickered open, they were disoriented and unfocused. Her gaze traveled blearily over to Bréil. Her eyes were a deep brown color. He noted it with indifference.

As if some part of her mind was thinking coherently, the girl's eyes went large and she struggled to move away from him. She was too weak to even lift her hands above the ground, her body barely moving as she fought with herself for the strength to retreat.

Bréil didn't move as he looked down at her. The coldness of his dark eyes reflected in the frightened pool of her brown ones. He watched silently, as the girl's already low strength, flagged even further. After only a few moments of the only sound being the low and harsh breaths of her struggle, her body gave up on her and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. She had faded back into unconsciousness.

Making sure that she was fully unconsciousness, Bréil turned on heel and left the cell, nodding briefly at the guard to close the door on his way out. Complying wordlessly the Orc did as he was told. He watched Bréil walk away, his malevolent eyes gleaming. He wondered what was so important about the human girl's survival.

Only Bréil knew that answer: _The Master of Dol Guldur has learned of the presence of the last living heir to the throne of Numenor. To have her within their grasp and power, will secure our power over Gondor's throne._


	9. Edited Elrond's Plight

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED/EDITED

Fate's Paths-Chap8-Elrond's Plight-

Through the hazy distorted maze that was his vision, he could see her. She was hurt. Dying. He could do nothing to help her. Struggling frantically, Elladan tried to get closer so he could hold his sister and comfort her. Every step he gained she drifted farther away, .The pain lingering on her face stood out, imprinted forever in his mind.

_"Alenor!"_ he screamed, feeling as if he were wading through chest deep water with a current beating against him. The water was pushing him back; he was slowly losing sight of her blurred image. Why could he not help her? She needed help! She was losing a battle with the torture and pain.

Screaming, Elladan's eyes flashed open and for a disoriented moment he didn't remember where he was. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, but it had a certain touch to it that suggested that he should know where he was. Someone was beside him, and confused and pleadingly the Elf Lord's eyes swung in that direction. A man sat by his bedside; his tired young head was bowed down in sleep. His breathing whistled out even and strong.

Feeling the fingers of a sleepy haze creep around the corners of his sight, Elladan lunged out and grasped the man's hand. He knew that the man had a name, a name he should know but he didn't. A blank wall was separating him from everything he knew. He was too tired to fight it. He focused all his will on the branded memory of Alenor's pain. The name slipped from his mind for a moment and with effort he pulled back the treasured name. It was vital to tell someone. She was not safe.

The man gave a shout, leaping to his feet. The chair crashed against the floor with a resounding and painful echo. For a moment the man gazed wildly about the room, looking for the source of his startled awakening. His eyes came to rest last on Elladan and they widened. "Elladan."

Elladan struggled to regain contact with the man's hand, barely aware of the fact that the person had spoke. His head was beginning to pound with a frightening urgency and the black haze was hampering his sight, driving it even narrower. He did not have much time.

An obsessive fear gave him strength, and his hand clasped the man's tightly. He noticed the wince. "Alenor," he gasped, his voice cracking, with the hysterical pitch it had taken. "She is hurt! She's bleeding. Blood it's everywhere! Help her! You have to help her!"

"Elladan, Elladan calm down!" The man cried, gripping the Elf's hand and seating himself next to him, leaning forward. "Alenor's alright. She's home. It was only a nightmare. Stay here while I get _Adar_, I don't know what kind of medication he has been giving you." The mortal made to stand, but Elladan refused to let go of his hand. He gripped it as tight as he could with his fast-fading strength.

"You lie!" he screamed, struggling now to get out of bed. Alenor needed him. Alenor was in trouble. Why weren't they looking for her? For a moment the question of "_who is Alenor again?_" entered his head before he ruthlessly squashed it. There was no time to question his ailing memory.

"Elladan what are you doing?" the man demanded, trying to push the elf back against the pillows. He turned his head toward the door. "Talagand! _Help!_ Get Elrond!" The momentary distraction almost gave Elladan his freedom, but the mortal recovered in time to throw the heavily wounded Elf back. "Elladan don't make me hurt you worse then you already are. You need to calm down. Do you hear me?"

Screaming, Elladan struggled to find a way past the man's defenses. He tried everything he could but couldn't manage to throw his worst at the man's face. Gasping in exhaustion he collapsed back, writhing under the strong arms that pinned him. "You traitors," he sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. "You let her die! You aren't going to save her. I hate you all!"

"Estel move out of the way."

Elladan turned his head towards the new voice, realizing that it was also achingly familiar. But who was he? And who was Estel?

"Elladan, drink this. It will help make you better."

"It's poison!" Elladan shouted, his had shot out to knock the approaching cup away from the stranger's hand. The last of his strength failed and instead his hand collapsed back onto the mussed coverlet. Besieged by lack of breath, Elladan turned his head away, fighting for air. Exhaustion stole over him as the closing of the emotional floodgates left no strength for him to use.

He felt a warm liquid pour uninvited down his throat, but he no longer had the strength to fight it. As the draught took hold,and as the darkness swarmed over him, pushing him back in the black world of nothing, Elladan managed a few last words. "How could you let Alenor die alone and in pain?"

Elrond swooned back, feeling Estel's strong arms circle around him, supporting his weight. "I'm alright Estel," he breathed, taking the young man's hands. "Just help me stand on my feet."

"Are you sure _Adar_?" Estel voiced his concern, but did as he was told anyway. "You're pale."

Elrond turned around to meet Estel's gaze. He refused to stare at the still form of his son that lay in the bed behind him. "I need you to find Halbarad and the other highest ranking Rangers in Ilmadris. After that I need you to find Elrohir. Last I saw him he was pacing in the Hall of Fire. He was cursing this ill-begotten weather that caused your search to be delayed."

"Yes _Adar_," Estel hurried away without a word of complaint. He had heard the dangerous undertone of his foster-father's voice. He paused at the door for a minute, wrapping his hand around the frame. "Would you like me to tell them to gather in your study?"

"What?" Elrond jumped in surprise, having though Estel had left. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache come on. "Yes, tell them to go to my study as soon as possible. Thank you Estel."

Estel nodded wordlessly, not mentioning that he was only doing the favor because he was worried about Elrond's pent up emotions exploding if he didn't.

Once alone, Elrond let himself turn slowly to face Elladan, the stern mask of the Lord of Rivendell slipping away like the river carrying away the sand.

Elladan looked horrible. His face was deathly pale and he had dark, gaping hollows under his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and forced, as if he could not breathe properly. He had lost weight since he had received the injury. He had shrunk down until the whole bed seemed to engulf him.

Hesitantly, Elrond stepped forward and gently clasped his dying son's hand. It was cold and clammy to the touch. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as unable to bear it he released the hand and turned back to the cup he had left on the dresser. He needed to wash it out before Estel or any other Healer detected the faint whiff of poison drifting from its depths.

"I'm sorry Elladan," Elrond whispered brokenly, picking up the cup as he glanced at his son. He felt a terrible burden growing within his heart, knowing that he was part of the reason why Elladan was dying so swiftly. He should have been able to make it the Fall Harvest at least before his life gave out on him. But the Fall Harvest was a long time away. It would mean weeks of endless suffering. Such a time Elrond would not have his son endure. He did not want such hurt to emanate from his son. He was in too much of it as it was. The only choice had been to speed the process.

The poison was tasteless and colorless. Elladan would not be able feel its effects as it worked quietly through his body. He would die peacefully in a matter of days. Elrond could only wish that Alenor would have been able to say goodbye. He did not give up on the hope of finding her, but the hope of her coming back before Elladan died had long been lost.

"_Adar_, we've been waiting in the study for a few minutes now. What's wrong, how come you're still here?"

Blinking slowly, Elrond looked toward Elrohir. He gave his younger son a weak smile. "I'm sorry, my thoughts were drifting, I hadn't realized so much time had past." He stirred, straightening to his full height. "Come, I did not mean to keep you waiting." Wrapping an arm around his son's shoulder Elrond effectively pulled him away from his brother's sickroom.

For a long moment the two walked quietly down the hall. Elrohir had surrendered completely to his Father's embrace, and had even let his head rest against the comforting shoulder. It was Elrohir who finally broke the silence.

_"Adar_, I want you to tell me the truth," he whispered, his eyes darting around assuring that the hallway was empty save for them. Seeing that it was, he continued, his voice dropping a measure lower. "Are you poisoning Elladan? Helping him along?"

Elrond sighed, knowing that he should have known that Elrohir or Estel would eventually figure out what was going on. "Elrohir," he said slowly, drawing his son even closer. For a moment their feet tangled together and they nearly tripped. When they had recovered, faces a little red with restrained laughter, Elrond continued. "You have to understand what I'm doing, is for the best."

Smiling faintly and widening the gap between them so that further mishaps would not occur, Elrohir nodded. "I understand _Adar_. I do not want Elladan to suffer either. And," he faltered, closing his eyes, struggling to regain his composure. "And if you think it best that you help Elladan along then I will not protest."

"I am relieved that you think so," Elrond whispered, his voice full of emotion. "But Elrohir. Hear me out, I must say something."

"You do not want me to inform Estel what you are doing," Elrohir supplied, guessing his Father's thoughts. "He is not a child anymore _Adar_ but I understand your wisheshes. The less who know, the less we have to worry about...Will Alenor be able to say goodbye?"

His heart near to breaking with strain placed on every one of his nerves Elrond drew Elrohir close again. Placing his lips next to his son's ear he whispered what he had known from the minute Alenor had disappeared. "No Elrohir.I'm sorry, but the hopes were slim when we started the search and with Estel's news it is nearly impossible that we will ever find her before the year is done."

Elrohir sighed, his eyes suddenly finding the leaf-shaped tiles very interesting. "I had feared so. But we must have hope, right _Adar_?"

Elrond smiled proudly down at his son, seeing the stubborn attitude that shimmered around him like a near-invisible veil. It was a trait he had learned well from his Mother. "Of course," Elrond said, pushing away the past. "Hope is always there, though sometimes it may not look like it."

For a long moment there silence, broken only by the light click of boots on the tile floors. Only when they had drawn close to Elrond's study did Elrohir give himself a shake, as if shedding his thoughts, turning his eyes towards his Father.

"Do you think Mandos will allow Elladan to be reborn?" he asked, his voice pitched low so that it would not carry out to the other occupants in the hallway. "He has done it with Glorfindel. But will he with Elladan?"

Elrond laid a hand on his son's shoulder, hearing the undertone of worry and grief. "We all don't want him to suffer Elrohir. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing. If Mandos sees fit that he can be reborn and that such rebirth will not cause him the grief that is being laid upon him now, then perhaps for once his heart will be softened again and Elladan will walk the forest paths again."

Elrohir nodded his head once, a short jerking motion that carefully revealed nothing of his inner emotions. "I sent a letter to Arwen in Lothlorien like you requested _Adar_. It will be too late when she comes. Do you wish to…?"

"I already have," Elrond assured, pushing the door open to the study. "There is nothing left to do but turn our attention back to Alenor." He smiled encouragingly before entering the study.

As one the Rangers stood up, bowing to the Lord of Rivendell. Halbarad straightened first, his keen eyes searching for a hint of _some _emotion in Elrond's eyes. "Why were we called here my lord?" he asked. "Poor Estel is soaked to the bone."

Elrond glanced over to see Estel hunched in a chair shivering. His dark locks spread across his knees and dampening the chair and carpet. For a moment Elrond's breath hitched angrily. _Not that blasted chair again! How many times do I have to get the cover repaired?_ Forcing the anger away he quickly ordered the man to get some common sense and sit before the roaring fireplace.

"I forward Halbarad's question _Adar_ why are we here?" Elrohir spoke up, sitting down next to his brother. His eyes quickly searched out the seven other members of the higher-ranking Rangers.

Elrond took the time seating himself at his desk. Carefully he leaned forward, making a steeple out of his fingers as he regarded everyone in the room. A few lowered their eyes, shifting their feet. Some like Halbarad, Estel and his son returned his gaze with confidence, but with the lurking weight of the burden that lay beneath.

"We are here," Elrond spoke the words, slowly, and measured, making sure that everyone was listening to him with their utmost attention. "Because Elladan has had a vision in which Alenor was hurt. Our time to find her is growing short."

"_Adar!_ Are you saying that what Elladan saw was truth?" Elrohir exclaimed, jumping up, his hands clenching into fists. "Then..." he trailed off his eyes flashing to the window panes that were shadowed from the lead-colored skies and lashing rain. "_Tinúviel_..." he slumped down, Estel reaching over to hold his brother close, trying to comfort him. Elrohir didn't pull away from the soaking embrace.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Elrond nodded. "We have two choices. We can wait till the weather wears off, or we continue to search now."

The words were hardly from his lips when Elrohir shot to his feet and stormed from the room. Estel shot Elrond a defeated look before running after the Elf. Elrond sighed. He was afraid this would happen. "You're all dismissed. If you decide to take the journey report to me before you leave. Halbarad would you stay a moment?"

Boots shuffled on the carpet and chairs scraped back as the men stood and exited the room, talking quietly. Elrond kept his head on the desk, feeling an overpowering surge of despair sweep through him.

"What do you need Elrond?" Halbarad asked.

With an effort, Elrond lifted his head and looked at the concerned Ranger. "Go with my sons. Protect them, I know they are old enough to look after each other, but rage and fear may have blinded their sight. I have one son injured don't make me look after two more."

"Yes my lord," Halbarad bowed, and hurriedly left the room so he could catch up with Estel and Elrohir.

Once alone, Elrond sunk into the chair, tears coursing down his cheeks. Shoulders trembled from the effort of trying to hold them back, he pressed the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. He had to be strong. For himself, for his people and especially for Elladan. They all needed them, and Elrond couldn't let them see that he was suffering.


	10. Edited Duplicity

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap9-Duplicity-

Alenor didn't want to awaken, some fogged part of her mind warned her against that action. It warned her that to awaken was to awaken the dormant but ever close agony, uneasiness, suffering and loneliness. At last however, her mind rebelled against itself and against her will she drifted, coming back to herelf in disjointed bits that filled in the puzzle jaggedly, that There left gaping holes but she didn't have the energy or the will to force the riddle together.

From the distant drip of echoing water Alenor knew immediately that she was back in her cell. Trembling she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to open them. It took less effort to not remember every torment she had been through. Perhaps if she could will it she would find herself in a place of peace and joy. A place where she could hold fast to the sanity that was swiftly fading into a distant incomprehensible dream.

Her mind had begun to drift, slipping from awakening back into unconsciousness. The borders of both joined so seamlessly she couldn't tell the difference between them. It was that state that caused her notice the voices later then she normally would have. She had only just managed to pull herself together in semblance of nonchalance when the cell door opened. The metal sound of the hinges screeched painfully on her ears, nearly shattering the illusion.

Slowly she opened her eyes. A man was making his way towards her. He was wearing a black cloak that was pulled low over his face, concealing his features in a haze of shadow. It swished gently in the wake of his proud, confident steps that somehow did not border anywhere near arrogance. He moved with a grace that would have made the Elves green with envy.

A wild terror seized her forcing her breathing into a pattern of irregular gulps of terror. Illusion shattering, she looked at him terrified. "Please!" she begged. Tears of fright rolled down her face, as her body shook uncontrollably. She was forced to try and forget the aggravation it caused her many grievous hurts. It didn't work. "I swear don't know anything. Please don't hurt me. I beg you." she sobbed, not even sure what she was saying.

The man continued to ignore her as he crouched down. Pushing his cloak away from his side, he unhooked a water flask, hanging from his belt. "Easy," he murmured, reaching out to her slowly. "Let me help."

Alenor flinched back, her body shuddered with pain of shifting her weight back. "Don't hurt me," she begged, there was no indication of sanity in her voiced. The fright had taken total control of her.

In response the man gently brushed her forehead with his fingers, speaking in a soothing tone. Alenor could not understand what he spoke, but knew that the language he spoke was not the Black Tongue. As if a small sensible part of her mind had understood the meaning of his words, the fearful tension eased away like the sluggish but ever-moving current of a river. The terror began to leave her eyes as well, making them appear almost normal.

Tentatively and with care the stranger reached out, easing an arm around her upper shoulders so he could help her into a half-sitting posture. Alenor's teeth clamped down upon her shredded lower lip, struggling not to scream in pain.

"Shh…I know it hurts," the stranger said compassionately. His voice was gentle, yet there was an undertone that was deep and resonating. "Drink this, if you can manage it." With some difficulty, as his arm was still wrapped around her shoulders, he pulled the stopper off the flask. With care he pressed the opened flask and pressed it against Alenor's lips. Noticing that instinctively her arm tried to come up to grab it, he shifted his position so that it was squished against her side. She winced in pain.

The water felt like a taste of Vainor as it slid down her parched throat. Alenor let her eyes close, feeling it sooth away the scratchy roughness of dehydration. She felt the weakness spreading through her body, and knew that she couldn't fend for herself. Every instinct screamed at her not to trust the man that knelt there and so caringly aided her.

Making a feeble gesture with her hand, Alenor turned her head to the side. Some of the precious water splashed down onto her grimy and bloodstained shirt. She flinched. Even the soft impact of the water through the cloth hurt.

"Close your eyes," the stranger whispered. "Everything will be fine soon. You'll be safe."

Forcing her eyes to remain open, Alenor gazed at him questioningly "How?" she whispered, her eyelids were unwillingly drooping downward. "I hurt..."

Her words trailed off with the explosion of the cell door slamming open. Hurriedly, the stranger shot to his feet, dropping Alenor wordlessly. Biting back a scream, she closed her eyes, as lances of pain fired through her head, making her feel nauseated and frightened.

"What are ya doing here?"

It was the Orc Captain. Alenor's eyes snapped open. He was standing in the door. One of his cohorts hovered behind, afraid in the looming shadow of his overseer.

"I was planning on interrogating the prisoner for a few answers. I had to make sure that she could scream before I continued."

"Well go on then!" The Orc made a rude gesture with his hand. A malicious grin spread across his face, showing off yellow and uneven teeth. "Let's hear 'er scream."

Alenor screamed before his foot touched her. The change in the stranger's eyes when he turned to look at her was terrifying. They were devoid, emotionless, haunting. They showed that they did not care if she was hurt, did not care if her mind collapsed under the burden of torture.

"What is your name?" he demanded, his voice ice.

It felt as if a winter snowstorm was driving against her skin. His voice was so cold. Alenor struggled to back away from him and his feet. Terror surged over her, giving her a false strength. But she did not get far before his foot connected with the broken leg. Screaming she fell backward, unable to hold herself up. "Please," she begged, trying to draw herself in a fetal ball. "Please, don't hurt me."

"What is your name? What is your heritage?" the stranger snapped, impatient. "Tell me!"

"I don't know, I don't know. I don't know, please," Alenor babbled, hardly registering the fact that she was causing herself more pain from the way she was laying.

The stranger looked down at her as if he would try again, then made a strangled noise in his throat and turned back to the Orc Captain that was looking decidedly pleased with the screams. "She's not saying anything. We'll save this until later."

Glaring, but somehow understanding that the stranger was right, the Orc turned smartly and strode away. The stranger paused for a moment then left to, without a final glance over his shoulder.

Left alone, Alenor's sobs finally diminished as the pain came back to the forefront. Her mind not able to cope with it dragged her down in the bottomless pit that was devoid of everything. Her mind drifting away slowly, Alenor realized that it was becoming harder to leave the sanctuary that saved her from pain and fear. The thought did not scare her, as it should have.

Bréil paused for a brief moment outside the girl's cell. Checking to make sure he was alone, he rested his hand gently against the door and pushed it open. For once the door did not make a screeching protest, and whispering his thanks to its silent coldness, Bréil slipped back into the cell. He would not leave the girl alone, when he knew the fever that raged through her body was furthering weakening her crumbling defenses.

_The sooner I get her out of here and to my Mistress and people with the skill of Healing, she will be recover. How her...No, I can not think that! Sauron and the Witchking will be overjoyed with it._ Bréil contented himself with the thought, kneeling at the girl's side.

He wished he could remember her name, but at the time he had been given it, there had been no reason to remember it. There still was no reason, but to know one's name was to have power over them, and Bréil knew that at this crucial moment in her life that power would be best in his hands

The girl did not stir, when Bréil touched her shoulder. Shifting in concern he brushed his hands down her body checking the wounds. He felt his breath come in a series of frightened short bursts. Her fever had shot dangerously upward, and the lacerations that covered her body were beginning to flame; a pre-warning to infection. He could wait no longer.

Bréil leaned back on his heels staring up at the ceiling. Placing the length of his hand in front of his eyes, he saluted smartly, brining the hand back in a fist to slam over his heart. He had made his decision. He had to take her back to his Master tonight. Whether the Orcs and his Master liked it or not, he was going to. He had no choice, he even feared to leave the girl's side lest she fade away before he could give her a touch of Healing. Even though she was just a tool, she was a very important one.


	11. Edited A Time to End Foolishness

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap10-A Time to End Foolishness-

The tracks came to a sudden stop. Growling in frustration, Elrohir straightened, forcing a hand against the stiff muscles of his lower back. He hadn't known until a few days ago that Elves could get sore backs, he wished he still lacked that piece of knowledge. The rain had let up a few hours ago, allowing for at last, a small ray of hope to hit the travelers. Estel and Halbarad were both miserable, quietly expressing that they thought staying in Rivendell would have been a better idea. Elrohir had decided to ignore it, the burning desire to find his sister and forget Elladan's condition, overrode his caution.

"The tracks end." He heard an agitated sigh push past Halbarad's lips.

"Elrohir we're following ghosts. These tracks might not even belong to the Orcs that captured Alenor. Estel told us himself a thousand times that the Orcs are moving back into the Misty Mountains in increasing numbers. We're searching for a needle in a haystack."

Elrohir spun around, glaring at the Ranger before him. He barely saw Estel maneuver his horse a wise step backward. "Do you see any haystacks around here?" he snapped. Not even waiting for a response he continued "Well I don't! So until you find one I'll say that you're getting deluded from old age. Alenor is not a needle and neither are Orcs!"

Halbarad remained calm, letting Elrohir continue his rant. His facial expression hardly changed, but Estel winced, and his horse took another step back without his prompting.

"Do something!" Elrohir screamed, slamming a fist into Halbarad's stomach. The Ranger stumbled, but offered no form of defense. Instead he dismounted, trying to hide a wince. "Do something! Hit me!" Elrohir's screams trailed off into choking sobs as he fell from the saddle to his knees on the ground. Wrapping his arms around himself, he buried his face into his knees as he sobbed.

Halbarad stepped forward, kneeling in front of his friend. "Elrohir," he said gently. "Let's go home. There's nothing more we can do here. You're only hurting yourself; Elladan would want you to be there for him."

Elrohir nodded, although Halbarad's words washed right over him. "Alenor," his words came out ragged. "I can't give up on her."

Halbarad gave the Elf's shoulders a small shake. "Elrohir you're beginning to fade. You haven't eaten in days, nor have you slept. You can't keep this up. You may be an Elf, but you still need your rest. Elrohir, I will carry you away from here if I have to."

"No," Elrohir whispered, pulling away. "I won't. I can't."

"Umm...Halbarad, Elrohir," Estel's voice broke through into the argument. He sounded frightened. "We're being watched."

Elrohir lifted his head, looking around him. Something was definitely wrong. There was an unnatural quiet in the air, a heavy thickness he could almost feel. Staggering, he managed to climb to his feet, his hand going for weapons he carried at his side. Halbarad stopped him, grabbing his arms.

"You can't fight them Elrohir. You'll be of no help to Alenor if you get yourself killed," he reprimanded gently. "Estel, help me, I don't think he can stand much longer."

Estel rushed forward, catching the other half of Elrohir's weight as he collapsed toward the ground. "Elrohir hold yourself together. You're going to be alright."

Half in a daze, Elrohir let his head loll against Estel's shoulder. "Let me fight them. I can beat them." Almost unaware that he was being lifted, Elrohir saw the clearing fade away from view. "What are you doing!"

"Elrohir hush, you must be quiet," Estel urged, holding his hand consolingly. "Or they'll find us."

Complying with the underlying urgency, Elrohir let his head sink back against the waiting shoulder. He had thought it was Estel's but it could have been Halbarad's instead. "Please stop, I want to see them," he protested, feeling like he didn't have the strength to move. He wasn't aware of the look that passed between Estel and Halbarad but he felt himself being lowered to the ground. "Why do I feel like this?"

"Elrohir, you must eat something!" Halbarad exclaimed holding him upright. "You're fading out."

Elrohir looked up into the Ranger's face and for the first time registered the concern written there. For the first time he felt the uneasy wrongness inside him. He was fading out, dying in the Elven fashion of mourning. He almost felt too tired to rebel and fight, but he saw the morsel of food that Halbarad was holding out to him and tiredly accepted it.

He had barely finished before he heard a ruckus. Turning his head he lifted himself partly off the ground. "I can't see anything," he hissed lowly. "I should..." he stopped as the full realization of _fading_ hit home. He was losing his Elven sight. Frightened he gripped Halbarad's tunic, breathing harshly.

"Elrohir quiet," Estel whispered in his ear. "They're close."

"I can't hear them well..." Elrohir panted, fear raging through him. How close had he been to dying without him realizing it? "I can't hear them...are they...?"

"They're frustrated," Estel supplied his voice low. He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to calm him. "I think they're leaving." He paused looking at Elrohir's face. "We're going back to Rivendell. No questions."

"No," Elrohir shook his head. "No, we must follow them. Please. If it is my last wish, we have to." He looked up, his eyes begging Halbarad to listen to him for once.

Halbarad looked away uncertainly. For a long moment he said nothing, then he sighed, hanging his head. "Alright, we'll follow them. Elrohir you're going to have to ride double with me. I don't trust you to ride alone."

Elrohir agreed, knowing that he was still too weak to stand. He knew that he was still fading, but now that he knew, perhaps he could find the strength to fight it. He wasn't too sure though, whether he wanted to or not. Perhaps it would be better to die, so he could be with Elladan, forever.

XxXxX

Waking had become an internal battle. A part of her urged her body to wake, to extend its needs but the part that was drowning in fright, in despair, struggled to keep her under. Alenor no longer knew the difference between the two, no longer knew the difference between waking and dreaming.

Though she stared up at a rough ceiling, she could not pick through the fog to know whether it was an illusion or truth. Her world had narrowed down to the simple facts of survival and fear, there was no room left for anything else.

Hearing footsteps drawing beside her, Alenor moved her eyes, toward the figure standing over her. The ever-ready well of fright surged upward, clawing at her throat. She merely stared, too tired, too afraid, too far gone to care. She was scared, but it no longer touched her as fiercely. A part of her was dead.

"Girl, can you hear me?" the man kneeled down next to her, touching her shoulder giving it a light shake.

A bolt of pain flashed through Alenor's body and she closed her eyes, moaning. Though everything else faded, the pain never did, no matter how she wished it would.

"Good, good," the stranger muttered, pulling a blanket from a pack that was set next to him. Leaning forward, he gently wrapped her in it, pretending not to notice her winces.

"Stop, please," Alenor begged, the words hardly passing through her dry, cracked lips. "Don't hurt me."

"Enough of that nonsense," the man snapped angrily, grabbing his water-skin, uncorking it in a jerking movement. "Drink."

Alenor choked, as she felt the water clog in her throat. Remembering that she had to swallow she closed her eyes, and let the water pass down. It hurt; it hurt as much as breathing. Was she really awake?

She felt herself being lifted up and knew only because lances of agony rushing down her back. Her eyes squeezed shut, the corners crinkling with the effort. She begged with her mind that this was only a nightmare that the pain was over and that he was not going to torture her anymore. There was no answer, only a black void that moved restlessly, impatient and read to consume her. Only faintly did her mind register that she was awake, that she was being rescued, but that part of her mind was drowned beneath the ceaseless torrent of pain, fright and despair.

The stranger looked down at her face, shifting the too-light burden in his arms. He knew that the time for his charade was over; the girl's health was of the utmost importance now. He hoped it wasn't too late.

XxXxX

Looking down at her, he whispered a quick prayer, thinking as he did; _if I walk back into La Vallée, with the girl like this, her Grandmother is going to skin me alive. _Realizing that he had said _if_ he quickly changed it to _when._


	12. Edited Grief Unending

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap11-Unending Grief-

The moon was full; the type of full that shines so bright that the need for lanterns and candles dwindles. Beams of moonlight shimmered off the tops of roofs, and the fortified spires of the palace. It was late; late enough that the beams of light caught no sign of a passerby. Even the taverns were quiet. As the moonbeams wandered around the quiet city a stray wisp caught the figure of a woman, standing alone on a balcony.

Her white hair flowed down around her, framing a face that was becoming creased with age, yet still proud and handsome. Hands, knotted from the longs years of her life, gripped the white balustrade as she gazed westward. She was stooping forward, but it was not of age that caused her back to bend, it was because she was trying to make out the pass at the end of her city.

"My lady, you should come inside, it's cold out tonight."

The woman stirred, straightening, but her eyes did not waver from the indistinct outline of the narrow pass. A hand touched her elbow and the woman was forced to look up into the eyes of her personal guard.

"The pass is watched, as always," he assured her. "If there was any sign of Bréil, you would be the first to know. Come inside."

The woman shook her head, gripping her shawl more closely about her strong shoulders. "I must stay here. I must keep vigilance. They are late; he should have been back by now. What if he came too late to save her?"

"We mustn't worry," the guard urged. "This is out our hands; the only thing we can do is pray for your Granddaughter's safety. It is Bréil who we placed our hope into; it is in him where the burden lies. He has never failed you."

The woman shook her head, her eyes returning to the distant pass. She felt the guard take her arm again and irritably shook it off. "I refuse to move."

"My lady, the beginning of the Harvest starts tomorrow. Your people will want you there to help."

The woman stirred, sighing heavily. "Alright Sebastian, I'll go in, if it makes you happy." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the sturdily built man fight to hide a smile.

"Of course my lady. Perhaps you'll want dinner?"

"I suppose," she grumbled, realizing she had just been conned into doing something by her guard. _And I thought I was the ruler of this city and that everyone listened to me! I must be getting addled with old age._

XxXxXx

At first Elrond wasn't sure what had alerted him. His head shot up, looking around the room, looking for the source of wrongness that had awoken him. Seeing nothing for the moment, his hands drifted to his eyes to wipe the sleep away. Stretching, he stood to light a few candles but noticed that the moonlight creeping through the window was adequate enough. Sighing he slumped back into his chair. He didn't know if he even had the energy to stand up again and knew that it was a dangerous sign saying that he had pushed himself too far. Elrond couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten, though he was sure the Healers had taken care of that problem for him.

The past few days, Elrond hadn't dared left his son's side, remaining constantly vigilant. Elladan's health had decreased alarmingly, startling the Healers who were ordered to stay away when they became too suspicious of his health. Elrond didn't want to explain what he was doing; it was painful enough having to watch it.

It was then he noticed again that there was something wrong in the room. Stiffening, Elrond look around again, this time his eyes caught upon Elladan's form lying on the bed.

"Dear Valar," he gasped, leaning forward, a hand reaching out to grab his son's. It was still warm, but his breath came out in the barest of whispers. "Is it time?" the words halted in his throat, as grief rushed back to the surface. Elrohir wasn't even there to say goodbye.

"_Adar?_"

The voice was quiet, hoarse, nearly non existent, but Elrond heard it. Forcing himself to put away his grief, he lifted his head, leaning closer to hear what Elladan had to say. "I'm here," he murmured.

"Where's Elrohir?" the Elf asked, frowning suddenly seeming very lucid. It was a bad sign, a sign that signified that the next few moments were going to be his last. "And Alenor, have you found her?"

Elrond shook his head. "We haven't found her," he whispered, not wanting to lie to his son in his final moments. "But we haven't lost hope. Elrohir is still searching for her."

"Good," Elladan whispered, his eyes searching out the ceiling beams. "I would not want him here, seeing this moment."

Elrond nodded, glad that his son was taking it well. Elladan already knew he was going to die; there was nothing he could say anymore that would change that. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm not," Elladan smiled a bit. "Because I'll always be here. In these walls. In your heart. I love you _Adar_ nothing changes that. Not even death." He paused looking around him. "But I would like to see the stars before I die."

Nodding, tears brimming quickly in his eyes, Elrond stood, pulling back the covers. He tried hard not to notice how unwell his son looked, wanting only to remember him as the vibrant, mischievous Elf that Rivendell loved. Without a word he lifted Elladan into his arms, and carried him toward the portico that was attached to his room.

"When is the Harvest _Adar?_" Elladan asked his voice soft.

"In a few days," Elrond replied, shouldering the door open.

"If only..." Elladan stopped, closing his eyes, as he took a few shuddering breaths. "You must say goodbye for me. I cannot do it myself. I think this is the Valar and Eru's last gift to me."

Elrond nodded, laying his son down on a recliner, kneeling next to him. Elladan's eyes were fastened on the stars; he was smiling, even though tears trailed down the corners of his eyes. Lovingly, Elrond reached out, gently brushing them away. "I'll always love you Elladan."

"I love you too Father," the Elf whispered, his voice dropping lower. Still staring up at the sky, his chest gave a heave as he breathed his last. Still smiling, his eyes slowly closed, his hand tightening momentarily around his Father's, as if in one last attempt to comfort him.

For a long moment Elrond said nothing, struggling within himself, denying to himself that Elladan was dead. It took only for a moment for the denial to lose ground and the overpowering grief to take place. Unable to hold back tears, Elrond let his head fall to rest against the edge of the recliner, his body shuddering as the tears rolled forth. The stars winked down on him sympathetically, but he hardly noticed. In that moment nothing mattered, everything was without meaning. It was such a grief that words could not even begin to describe it.

Far away, in a small camp that touched the fringes of the Mountains, Elrohir sat up. Sweat poured off his face and for a moment he could not figure out what had happened. When the _knowing_ settled in, he screamed in anguish, burying his face into his hands as tears streamed down his face. He continued to scream, screaming accusations to his brother, as if hoping that they would bring him back. It took a startled Halbarad and Estel, aroused abruptly from sleep, a few moments to realize what had happened. Trying not to let their grief show they moved to comfort the distraught Elf, as he keened.

The night had fallen dead silent, as if in quiet respect and lament for one of the Eldar passing onto the Halls of Mandos.


	13. Edited The Brink of an Abyss

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap11-The Brink of an Abyss-

It was the sun. Glorious, golden rays spilled across her face in warm tendrils. She could feel dappled shadows playing across her face where there was coolness instead of warmth. _Wait...feel?_ Alenor forced her eyes open and for the first time realized that she was awake, truly awake. Fear haunted the corners of her mind but for the moment the world seemed, tranquil.

Above her was the spreading trunk of a popular. Its branches reached up as if they were trying to touch the stars and the leaves had turned to the brilliant oranges and reds of fall. A few broke loose from their branches, swirling in lazy patterns as they moved toward the ground. A few of them had fallen against her face, but she didn't bother to brush them away, the light yet cool breeze did that. It felt good against her skin, she knew she was feverish, knew because of the unnatural cold coursing through her.

Sighing she closed her eyes again, almost imagining she was safe. Almost able to picture her brothers in her mind, almost able to see her Father and feel his arms around her. A smile played across her face, it was the first in so long she could no longer remember when she had smiled last.

"You're recovering," a deep voice said beside her.

Instantly all the old fear rushed back in a surging tide through her. Alenor tensed, a wince splaying across her body as it ignited the pain of the wounds that, for a brief moment had lain dormant.

"No, no," the man said, a hand touching her shoulder. "Relax child, what is your name?"

Swallowing painfully, Alenor scrunched her eyes, feeling the hand on her shoulder. She knew, with sudden clarity that she couldn't move without causing severe pain. She didn't want to go back into that void of darkness. The pain lingering in her mind was almost too much for her to bear. "Alenor."

"That's a beautiful name," the man replied. "Mine is Bréil. I'm trying to help you."

Alenor bit back a retort, afraid that if she did the fragile peace would shatter and he would hurt her again. She could still remember the imprint of his boots on her ribs, on her broken leg. She realized her breathing was becoming panicked, but couldn't stop it. The hand gave a light squeeze.

"Settle down Alenor," Bréil urged. "It's alright. You're safe now."

Frightened, she twisted her head away; pushing the palm of her left hand against the ground, ready to use it as leverage to move. It hurt, she cried out, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She felt herself being lifted up, strong arms holding her close. The arms that held her did not touch her wounds, as if he knew where each one was and was taking precautions not to aggravate them. Some of her fear slipped away then, as if a part of her wanted to feel comforted, whole.

Hands gently smoothed down her hair. "It's alright," a voice soothed. "You've been through a lot; you're pretty brave you know that?"

Alenor shook her head, biting her lower lip. It hurt to sit; she shivered a bit as the wind brushed over her. Bréil's hand touched her forehead.

"You have a fever, but we have to move again soon. Do you think you can do it?"

She said nothing, closing her eyes as questions started to pound in her head. She almost wished she was insensible. Everything was muted when she was in that state. It was better then this confusion, fear, insecurity. Alenor flinched when his hand touched her forehead again.

"No, I think we had best wait for another day," he said softly. "We'll be in scouting territory in a few days; we can get better help then. Besides the Orcs will not follow us, they trust me as one of their Masters. If they try, we will continue." Bréil gently stroked her hair again, running his fingers gently through the knots.

Alenor winced, but leant closer though it caused her pain, she hungered for the comfort he was offering her. Weariness was creeping up into her bones, steeling over her. Her eyelids drooped as she struggled to keep them open. She didn't want sleep, what if she slept and his words were a lie? Alenor knew that she was in no position to fight but the uneasiness of madness still lurked in her veins. It wasn't going to die soon.

"Here, here," Bréil encouraged, as if not noticing he was carrying on a one-man conversation. He reached beside him, shifting Alenor back a bit in his arms. "Drink up."

Alenor pursed her lips, turning her head away, fear stiffening her limbs again. She felt the brim of a cup gently touch her lips, yet he did not force her to drink. She could feel the gentle lap of water against her lips. The need for it nearly drove her insane; she could barely keep her lips shut. Weariness was making her limbs tremble and her head spin. She felt colder now too, as if the fever were sneaking back up on her.

"You have to," he insisted. "I'm trying to help you. I know what you're going through Alenor, but you have to let someone help you."

"I'm too scared." As soon as she spoke she knew it was mistake. Before she could cry out, the water slipped down her throat, Bréil holding the cup forcefully against her lips, making it down. Spluttering she tried to swallow, her mind working furiously as swallowing was a task half-forgotten.

"There you go," Bréil soothed, taking the cup away. He eased her back down onto the comforting blankets she was lying on. "Close your eyes and sleep."

Alenor felt the world slipping beneath her fingers and tried to fight it but it was beyond her control. Life had changed so much for her in the past few weeks. In a part of her mind she wished she had never reacted on impulse and run away to find the secrets of her past. The last thing that came to her mind was the final day she had spent in Rivendell. She'd never had the chance to rat Elrohir out to Erestor and tell the Chief Advisor that the Elf had been the one to put the spiders in his hair. With the memory in her head, Alenor fell asleep smiling.

XxXxXx

Elrohir could feel the sun slipping over the horizon, bathing him in a golden glow. He flinched away. It didn't seem right to feel the sun; it was an embodiment of happiness. Happiness was wrong. He wished the night would come back, it suited his mood, comforted him. Elrohir knew the hopelessness of his words, but couldn't, wouldn't stop it.

Hearing footsteps, he hunched forward, wrapping his arms around his knees, bowing his head down. "Leave me alone." His words were muffled but he couldn't care less if the person heard them. Couldn't care about anything anymore, life was dull and pointless without Elladan. He felt like he was standing on the edge of an abyss and he didn't want to turn back.

A hand touched his shoulder, Elrohir jerked away sharply. "Unless you got a knife leave me alone."

"I'm not giving you a knife," Estel snapped irritably. "Get up Elrohir. You've been moping all night!"

Had it been all night? Elrohir didn't know, he didn't care. "Leave me alone."

"Elrohir you're fading again! You got to notice that!"

Growling Elrohir tried to ignore him. It wasn't hard; his hearing was becoming worse. Though he knew the problem was there, the memory of what he was actually facing had drifted into nothingness.

"Elrohir you're giving up on Alenor," Estel's voice had grown soft. "You have to try to pull yourself together."

"I don't care."

"I give up!" Estel suddenly shouted, as if the fury he had been carefully concealing erupted into a full-scale storm. "Elladan was my brother too! I understand that he was your twin but for Eru's sake you shouldn't abandon Alenor. Elladan wouldn't have wanted you to give up everything just because he's dead! You're acting like a spoilt, snobbish, half-wit brat!" Spinning on heel the angry, young Ranger stormed toward the horses and Halbarad, who was standing watching the encounter quietly.

Elrohir hunched forward again, Estel's words ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the darkness. It wouldn't come, Estel's words kept it at bay. Releasing his knees he let his hands drift along the ground. Life was pointless, what did Alenor matter now that Elladan was dead? Without Elladan there was no life.

Feeling his fingers brush against something, Elrohir lifted his head slightly, and saw that his fingers were touching a rock. A very sharp rock.


	14. Edited Visitations

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap13-Visitations-

Mesmerized Elrohir gingerly picked up the stone, holding it before his eyes. An odd expression befell his face. Halbarad and Estel faded into the corners of his mind, becoming distant figures of a past filled with grief, torment and agony.

The sharp edge of the rock sliced across tender skin of his fingers when he carelessly gripped it tightly in his hand. Elrohir didn't notice the pain. His mind was completely wrapped around the object nestled in the palm of his hand; he could see the blood flowing through the cracks of his fingers; but there was no pain. It was fascinatingly and dangerously sharp. Sharp enough to end his life with a single stroke. Sharp enough to let him be with Elladan again. Alenor no longer mattered. He would not, _could not_, go back to grief.

Hardly comprehending the implications of what he was about to do, Elrohir turned his right wrist over, holding it defiantly toward the glaring brightness of the sun. No longer did he flinch away from the brightness; he would show happiness that he would not tolerate its rays to spread.

His breathing accelerating in anticipation, Elrohir rested the sharpest edge of the rock against his skin. Taking a steadying breath he looked down so he could watch the rock clawing away the skin of his wrist. Clouts of blood flew upwards in slow motion, leaking over his arm and attaching to his clothes. He thought that there would be pain but his mind was too blank to feel anything.

Behind him a shout of fright erupted and footsteps rushed towards him. The voice that had called out was familiar, but he could not longer attach a name to it. The warning hardly halted Elrohir's actions.

Time stopped.

He froze, immediately aware of the unnaturalness, even through the heavy veils of his mind-numbing grief. Elrohir slowly lifted his head. It felt as if his eyes were forced upward, dragging him like an unwilling prisoner heading to some unimaginable torture. He knew who was watching him and who had stopped time. But he was not dead. Not yet. Elrohir did not want to see him until he had passed over into the clutches of Mandos.

A warm hand, achingly familiar in touch and feel, closed over Elrohir's left, stopping him from going any farther. "Stop beating yourself up like this.."

Elrohir struggled to shut his eyes, to shut away his hearing; he didn't want to have to listen to that voice. It brought everything back, every little thing he had tried to push and lock away. The grief seared through him, making him choke on a well of rising tears. "I'm having a delusion," he whispered feverishly to himself, rocking back and forth. "It's not true. This isn't happening. I'm not dead yet. It's all an illusion."

"Elrohir, look at me. Do as I say. Denying this won't get you anywhere."

Elrohir could not disobey the command. It seemed as if some hidden force was residing in his brother's voice. He had to look up; there was nothing else he could do.

Elladan was kneeling before him. Both hands were clasping Elrohir's, keeping his suicide attempt at bay. The first son of Elrond was smiling gently at his twin. Smiling in that special way that comforts frightened children and yet makes them feel brave even though they had been afraid. Elladan's body was bathed in a gentle pulsing light that radiated his loving emotions for Elrohir.

Tears started to pour down Elrohir's face anew. He had thought that they were long dead, but come they did; pouring out in a river's torrent as he started cry, his anguish coming again to the forefront. He tried to speak, to get out all the words he had wanted to say but had never gotten around to saying, but the words wouldn't come. He felt Elladan release his hands so as to draw him close and hold him comfortingly. Elrohir tried to stop him, but couldn't even find the will to move. He didn't have the strength to do anything but let the tears run rampant.

"You're stronger than this," Elladan whispered in his ear, trying to higher Elrohir's spirits. "You can get through this. I know you can."

"No...No I can't," Elrohir wept, his words tripping over each other, as he finally managed to form them. "I can't go on without you. You were my life."

Elladan rubbed Elrohir's back, hushing him with quiet, soothing words. "I'm fine. I'm without pain now. I'm without suffering. This is all better for me. You did not want me to suffer did you?"

Elrohir managed to shake his head against his brother's shoulder. "No," he said, hardly able to pronounce his words. "But I don't want to you be gone. I want you to be healthy and remain by my side like you always have done."

"I haven't gone anywhere," Elladan pushed Elrohir back, resting his hands on his twin's shoulders in a brotherly grip. "Look me in the eyes Elrohir."

Elrohir obediently turned his eyes up into Elladan's. Their depths were so familiar, so full of vibrant life. The void of agonizing grief inside him yawned open, stretching further then he thought possible. It hurt so much. "I'm looking."

"I know," Elladan reproached him, but the smile didn't fade from his face. "Listen to me Elrohir, I haven't gone anywhere. I'm still where it counts most." He reached out tapping Elrohir's chest, above his heart. "I'm right here, where I've always been, in your heart and memory. Nothing changes that, nothing can ever change that."

Elrohir felt the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes again. "Everything's different now! Everything's changed! I can't do this!"

"And you would abandon our little _Tinúviel?_" Elladan asked, his tone almost accusing. "Abandon her to pain and torture? You would abandon her to live without knowing that I have departed from his world? You would abandon her to death?"

Elrohir shook his head fiercely, wondering what had come over him to make him forget Alenor's plight. The grief still gripped him with a furious passion but Elladan had infused him with a chance to go on. _Tinúviel_. He knew he could not abandon her now, especially when she was almost all he had left.

"I knew that all you need was a little persuasion. You were always good at getting back up on your feet," Elladan grinned softly, before his grew serious once more. "But Elrohir, promise me something before I go."

"Tell me what you want first," Elrohir replied, knowing better then to walk into an agreement with Elladan blindly. He had gone into things blindly too many times in the past with disastrous outcomes; even now he did not wish to fall into a trap.

Elladan raised a finger pointing it threateningly at Elrohir's face. "No," he said firmly. "You're going to swear to me first that you will act on what I say and that you will do nothing to go against it."

Fighting the instinct within him that was insisting that he should not listen to Elladan, Elrohir nodded his head reluctantly. "By Elbereth's stars I swear I will listen to what you have to say and act on it without question."

"Good." Elladan leaned back, as if content. "Firstly you're going to take care of the cuts on your wrist and fingers." He waited only for Elrohir's agreeing nod before continuing. "Second, you're not going to follow me after Alenor's safe and home."

Elrohir's jaw fell open. "No Elladan! You can't ask this of me!"

Elladan raised a warning finger. "You already swore that you would obey without question," he warned. "You will not come after me. _Adar_ is in enough grief as it is; _I will not allow you to follow me_."

Elrohir lowered his head, struggling to breathe normally. "Is there anything else that you require of me?" he choked out.

"Just that you'll always love me," Elladan replied, his tone changing subtly into one of warmth and love.

"You shouldn't have had to even think of asking that question," Elrohir retorted, looking up. He gasped in fright. Elladan's form was fading, drifting back into a void of light. His brother was still smiling.

"I'm always in your heart. Don't forget that," Elladan called, his voice echoing from a great distance and then he was gone.

Time resumed her pace.

Halbarad stumbled into Elrohir's sitting form. "Put down the..." The Ranger stopped mid-sentence, blinking in confusion as he realized that the rock was nowhere near Elrohir's hand.

Elrohir looked up into Halbarad's eyes, letting a worn smile cover his face. He pressed his other hand tightly against the self-inflicted wound of his wrist. He noticed the pain now.

"I thought," Halbarad stuttered, shaking his head as if trying to decide what to do. "Never mind. Let's get your wounds cleaned up." He started walking away, then paused as if in thoughtful consideration. "How did you get hurt Elrohir?"

"I slipped," Elrohir kept smiling. "I must have somehow hurt myself on that sharp rock over there."

Halbarad paused to look at, confusion still evident in his eyes. "I could have sworn..." he mumbled. Shaking his head, he turned and headed back toward the horses, Elrohir following behind heard him muttering under his breath. He fought to keep back a life. For the first time since Elladan's death, everything seemed almost normal.


	15. Edited The Weaving of the Threads

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap14-The Weaving of the Threads-

Morning found Elrond kneeling at his son's side. Sleep, though restless, had long since claimed his grieving mind. His hand was still clamped upon Elladan's, his knuckles white, as if he was hoping that by some sheer will power he could bring him back to life.

It was midmorning when the Healers finally stumbled upon the truth. When the Lord of Elrond had not showed up for an important meeting they had braved his anger and entered the forbidden room. When they saw him, understanding and sorrow graced their faces. They didn't even have to look at each other before, as one unit, they left. Though the Healers could not fully comprehend the loss, they all understand that not only had their Lord lost his wife to the Undying Lands, but now, his son lay dead in his arms.

XxXxXxX

Elrohir knelt down, brushing his fingers along the wildflower that rested on a hastily constructed rock cairn It was a pitiful tribute to his brother's death, but there was nothing more that he could do. "I will find Alenor," he whispered fiercely, clenching his fists. Tears dripped off his face and onto the flower's petals. He stood. "I will find her for you Elladan. I promise you that."

Booted feet, quietly shuffling, marked Estel's presence. The young Ranger was not trying to hide his coming. "What is the call Elrohir?" he asked, stopping three steps behind him. "Do we continue, or is it safe to say we go home?"

"You can go home Estel," Elrohir replied softly, but steel laced as an undertone through his voice. "But I'm going after Alenor. If I have to kill every Orc in Middle-Earth to find her, I will."

If Estel was shocked by Elrohir's vehement words he gave no sign of it. "If I go home brother…"

"I will not hold it against you," Elrohir completed the thought. "_Adar_'s going to need all the support he can get. Tell him I'm alright and that Elladan is happy where he is. Tell him I'll be home soon." He turned around, and saw that Estel was still in a state of indecisiveness. Smiling kindly, he drew his younger brother closer, whispering in his ear. "That suicide attempt was nothing, you hear? Go home. Flirt with the ladies. Do what you do best."

"Get off!" Estel struggled away, punching Elrohir in the chest when the Elf failed to release him. "How dare you imply that!"

"And I shall name every son that comes from that flirting after me," Elrohir grinned, ruffling the other's hair as he walked by. Estel aimed another punch, but the agile Elf ducked the blow.

"Shut up Halbarad." Estel grumbled, turning his attention to the older Ranger, as the man broke out in guffaws.

Elrohir shot Halbarad a warming smile, and mounted his own horse. "Are you going with Estel?"

"Someone has to watch over the little kid," Halbarad answered, still laughing. "You take care of yourself. You hear? I don't want you going one-on-one with a couple hundred Orcs, even if you can take them all."

Elrohir turned his head to see Estel, his arms crossed, and glaring sourly at the two older men. He was not enjoying being at the wrong end of the jokes. "Cheer up," Elrohir encouraged. "One day you'll get me back."

"And you'll get me back worse," Estel predicted, but didn't push the argument further.

Elrohir grinned in agreement, pressing his heels in the horse's flanks, urging him into a trot. He swiftly left behind the two mortals.

XxXxXxX

"Eat."

There was something before her face. She looked away, disinterested.

"Alenor, listen to me."

His words forced her to obey and listlessly she looked back at him. Her torturer, her savior, the one who forced her tired mind to continue to live despite her desire to slip away into death.

"Alenor, don't drift. Open your mouth."

She didn't want to, but knew that if she didn't he would force it open for her and shove the vile stuff down her throat.

"Good girl. There we go. Swallow. Remember how."

His words were soothing, reaching through the frightened unrest of her mind. They almost brushed upon some hidden part of her that was untainted, but afraid she would pull away before those words ever reached that spot. There was only such things as peace when he was there, holding her, feeding her, tending to her. It was a dismal life, but since he would allow her no other, she coped.

"Can you see the colors today?"

Alenor looked around. "No." There were colors, but they smudged together in a swirling canopy of needlessness.

"Do you want me to tell you what the colors look like?"

Unfamiliar sounds reached her ears. To her mind it sounded like boots striking against the earth. Panic raced through her like lightening. Where once the world was dull, it jarred sharply into almost painful detail. She struggled to sit up, but someone was holding her. The unconscious parts of her mind raced back to the days of terror within the Orcs den, and screaming she struggled to get away. She couldn't allow them to hurt her again.

Alenor! Alenor calm down! It was a sound, nothing to be frightened of," Bréil said as gently as he could while struggling to hold her still.

It was his voice. Shuddering, Alenor reached out and grabbed his shirt, not aware that he was the same person that was holding her down. Above her, fall colored leaves swayed in a soothing breeze. She flinched away from it. Terror, it held her as his servant. But the voice was there again, soothing her fright away.

Eventually, the terror receded and world faded again into smudges. Tears trailed down her face, as she clutched the man's shirt. "Don't let them take me," she begged.

"They will never take you again," he promised fiercely. "You're safe."

Comforted by his words, she let her mind sink down into the black pit of sleep; she hoped the nightmares would not come.

Alone, the girl resting in his arms, Bréil closed his eyes and rocked her back and forth. He didn't want to see her pale and gaunt features. He didn't want to be reminded that for a time she had revived before once again the terrors of the past had claimed her. He didn't want to be reminded that Alenor was probably never going to fully recover. The damage done upon her was too much for her to handle.

XxXxXx

"You're wasting away."

"Erestor!" Elrond jumped, his hands flying out. Meticulously stacked papers scattered, and their sharp edges smartly nicked his hands. "What are you doing in here?" he glared further as Glorfindel slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. For a brief moment burning light filled the room, but soon enough darkness descended again. Except for one solitary and low-burning lantern, the room was dark.

"We're here," Glorfindel said very carefully, "To set you straight. You need to eat, get some sleep and some sunlight."

"I don't want any of that!" Elrond snarled, getting out of his chair, so he could search the floor on hands and knees for his missing papers. "I need to work. I need to forget."

"You're never going to forget," Erestor said softly. He came forward and kneeled before Elrond. His hands reached and covered his Lord's. "Let it go. He would hate to see you like this."

"_Adar_, he's happy where he is. There is no more suffering for him," a quiet voice whispered.

Elrond lifted his head, to see that Estel had slipped into the room. He was still covered in dust, his hair tousled from a long ride. He hadn't known he had returned. The tears and grief threatened to spill, but he swallowed them back. He would not grieve, could not.

"Let it go," Estel encouraged, walking over to tap Erestor's shoulder. The Elf moved over and let Elrond's adopted son kneel in his stead. "_Adar_, you do not grieve alone."

Elrond looked up, as Estel brought his hands to his heart. "Here," the younger son whispered. "He is still here. Where he will always be."

The tears thundered against the flood gates until they broke with a torrent. Reaching forward he pulled Estel closer and together they cried. Elrond did not need to ask where Elrohir was, he knew that he was still hunting the Orcs, knew he would never stop hunting them until he had found Alenor. Even if she was dead.

And somewhere in the Misty Mountains, Elrohir stood, a groveling Orc at his feet. He listened with disgust as the Orc let loose everything he and the others of his band had done to a mortal girl. When the Orc grew quiet, with a scream of rage, Elrohir loped off his head and turned in pursuit of the Messenger of Dol Goldur.


	16. Edited Fragile Minds

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED Fate's Paths-Chap15-Fragile Minds-

Sebastian watched his lady from his discreet corner in the large bedroom He longed to show himself so he could stop her, but if he did he would be discovered and sent away. _No, better to wait here and protect her from a shadowed distance_. His eyes followed her restlessly as she continued to pace from the walk-in closet to the saddlebag on the outsized bed. Already strewn around the bag were castoff garments and healers' medications. Every once in awhile her head would come up, eyes searching the room, as if knowing that someone was watching her. Whenever she did that, Sebastian shrunk back farther into his corner.

After an hour of her preparation the Queen glanced up one final time and slung the saddlebag over her shoulder, grunting as it came down heavy. The seams were stretching. Taking a quick last glance around to make sure she had forgotten nothing, she hurried to the heavy ornate door, but paused there with her hand resting on the handle. "I suppose your horse is saddled and your bag packed already, Sebastian?"

Feeling his face heat with embarrassment at being caught, he stepped out of his corner. Not sure what do with this hands, he uneasily clasped them behind his back. "Yes my lady," he muttered, his eyes following the inlaid gold pattern on the carpeted floor.

"Come Sebastian, you've been watching over me like a hawk since I came into office, I knew I would have a hard time losing you tonight. It appears I failed."

"Yes, it appears you did," Sebastian murmured, his eyes finally returning to rest on his Queen's. "Did you plan on brining anything to eat or were you planning on starving?"

The queen shot him one of her dangerous looks. It was the kind of look that would send anyone crawling under the rocks unless they knew her well enough to realize that she wasn't actually mad. "No," she admitted scathingly.

"I see," Sebastian nodded, walking past the woman who was a head shorter then him. "Well I guess you'll just need me to come along."

"I am the Queen! I may take what I want, when I want!"

"Not when the kitchens are locked and only I know where the key is located." Sebastian moved into the hall, holding the door back so his lady could walk by him. "So, I am suggesting that I am a very helpful asset in your plan to disappear."

Shooting him another one of her dangerous looks she regally swept by him. "You might as well come along," she grumbled reluctantly. "And for Eru's sake Sebastian, call me Victoria, you should know that by now."

"Your rank is above mine," Sebastian pointed out, falling three steps behind her, as was protocol. "It is only befitting I call you 'my lady'."

"And yet you seek to badger and corner me every other waking minute of my life?" Victoria demanded under her breath, as she headed down the halls, somehow managing to look regal in her boy's attire.

"I beg to differ," Sebastian snorted. "You would have been caught in hundreds of hopeless fooleries, on your little escapades had it not been for me to save you."

"True enough," she conceded, slowing down. "And I suppose I have threatened you so many times that by now it flies over your head?"

"Yes my lady, it merely whispers like the gentle wind."

Victoria snorted in an unladylike way as she paused by a tapestry that depicted the downfall of their beloved Numenor. Checking quickly to make sure they were alone, she reached behind and pressed a small knot in the stone and beckoning to Sebastian slipped into the secret passage.

_XxXxXx_

_Riders_, Bréil, leaned back; his eyes closed feeling the drumming sound of the hooves in his mind. He was not surprised or startled by the sound; he would recognize the gait anywhere. Numorean horses. Shifting he opened his eyes, and reaching over, took Alenor's hand gently. The girl moaned a bit, her head tossing in his direction, as she shivered with false cold, her fever was starting to soar again, and nothing he was doing was helping it. _You should have pushed onward when you had the chance! You've been a sitting duck for the past two days!_

Scooting closer to his young charge, he pulled out the dripping cloth from the small pot that he set next to her. Whispering soothing words, he wrung it out, placing it on her forehead. Seeing her eyes flicker restlessly behind her closed lids, Bréil reached out and placed his fingertips on her lips. "Only me." The horrendous nightmare receded back into the swirling mist of unperceivable threats. He knew this because she quieted again, letting him gently cool her brow. It did little to help the fever.

"If that is my granddaughter lying there, Bréil I'm going to have you publicly flogged." A female voice snapped behind him.

Bréil didn't bother to wince; the angry tone in the Queen's voice wasn't directed at him anyway. No doubt Victoria was still seething because Sebastian had managed to thwart her plans. Again. "Yes my lady," he muttered, leaning over to dump the cloth back into the cool water. "How are you doing Sebastian? Has she been any trouble?"

"How did you know I was here Bréil?" the man grumbled, sounding vexed.

"You've been Victoria's unshakable shadow every time she tries to escape without anyone noticing."

"Unfortunately he is," Victoria stated briskly, hurrying over to Bréil and kneeling down on Alenor's other side. "She doesn't look good; you should have come back to La Vallée sooner."

"She won't let me get any closer," Bréil countered, his voice calm. "Alenor's barely coherent in her best moments but she's developed a ruthless fear of people. We're half a days ride from the farthest outlying sentry circle, I dare not go any closer."

"And you? Does she fear you?" Victoria demanded ignoring the rest of his words. She fixed him with a stare that reflected the fire's flickering flames.

Swallowing, Bréil looked down, smoothing back the hair that had stuck to her perspiring forehead. "She trusts me. A part of her does anyway."

"And why not all of her Bréil? You were to rescue her; you were to gain her confidence."

Stiffening, he looked his queen, anger igniting instantly at the accusation. "You told me that I was to rescue her in whatever way I thought necessary. The way I rescued her ensured the fact that we don't have to look for Orcs every time we draw a breath!"

"What did you do?" her voice had dropped an icy pitch.

"I beat her," Bréil responded just as icily, staring back into her eyes. "Do not try to overrun me Victoria. Here I am the leader; here I am in charge, here what I say goes. If I want to truss you up on your horse and let Sebastian take you home: _I can_. If I want you to be the washing woman: _you will_. If I want you to remain silent, _you will_. When I say _jump,_ you _jump_!" He stared at her, refusing to back down. He was in charge.

Victoria's eyes lowered first. "Yes sir," she said meekly.

"Bréil see here! We haven't exercised the rule for hundreds of years! That's no way to treat her!"

"Sebastian," Bréil said warningly, his voice still icy. "I hold you both in the highest regard but I will not let you interfere with Alenor. If you can help heal her, my many thanks, but if she sees you she will panic and jeopardize her precarious situation further."

"I am her Grandmother!" Victoria protested, the blood draining from her face. "She has to remember me!"

"She was three when she went missing," Bréil said, turning back to Alenor. Reaching out he caressed her cheeks gently, placing his lips next to her ear. "Alenor," he whispered. "You have to wake up. For me. Come on." He leaned back, groping blindly for the cup of watered down soup that he had placed behind him. His fingers brushed against Victoria's as she handed it over to him. "Stand back."

As if hearing his words Alenor stirred, her glazed eyes opening. "I heard voices," she whispered, fright creeping into her voice. "Bréil, Bréil are they back?"

"No Alenor," he assured, slipping an arm around her shoulders, scrutinizing the flashes of pain on her face to make sure it was not resting against any major whip slashes. "Just you and me. Come, drink." He held the cup up to her lips, watching as she weakly parted her lips. Seeing her right hand try to come up to support it, Bréil shifted a bit to pin it lightly down with his knee. "Drink. I'll hold it"

Alenor turned her head away, sloshing the remaining down her front. "I'm sorry."

"No, its okay," Bréil set the cup next to him, gently wiping off her face with the cloth from the pot, clearing away the soup. "Are you ready to take your medicine? Can you swallow?"

"It hurts," she trembled, her eyes holding his, there was barely a hint of sanity in them. "I'm so cold, can you warm me?"

"You know I can't do that," Bréil murmured, smoothing back her hair, letting his calm emotions spread out toward her. "But how about we take your medicine later?"

"I would like that."

"Then we will," he assured, shifting her shivering body closer to his, so as to be able to control her better when he spoke next. "What would you say as to having a few visitors in our camp? People I trust."

Instantly Alenor's body went rigid, and her breathing accelerated into panicked pulls. "No!" she screamed, twisting fiercely in his grip, pulling at her wounds, irritating them. "No! I won't let them take me!" She screamed louder, trying to pull away, hardly aware that she was causing herself more pain

"Shh, shh, Alenor. There's no one here but you and me," Bréil hushed, easing her body into a rocking motion that was used to calm crying babies. "It's alright, settle down." He held her that way until her breathing evened out and the tears had halted. He only let her go when the camp had fallen dead silent.

"Why did you show us that? Why did you make her suffer again?" Victoria demanded, not managing to get her angry tone above a strangled whisper.

"To show you how fragile her mind is, how unbalanced she is. Anything can set her off, she doesn't trust anything or anyone" Bréil answered, covering Alenor back up with a light cloak. "Shall I tell you all they did to her?"

"Please spare us," Sebastian interrupted. "For mine and my lady's sake."

Ignoring him, Bréil stood. Crossing his arms he stared out at the crescent moon, his back away from Victoria and her guard. "I stood and watched as the beat her with a whip. She didn't last long, longer then I thought she would have, but not much more. She passed out, her voice cracked with screaming. They released her from chains, and they had her. Five, maybe more had their way with her. And then those that had been denied their pleasure kicked her, beat her, cut shallow wounds into her body. She was unconscious but some part of her was aware of what they were doing. Some part of her was aware and it broke her, caused her to drift like a boat without anchorage." He turned to them, appraising them with his eyes drawn down. "That is why I need to handle this alone. I've been with her long enough to know how to behave, how to touch her properly, how to heal her properly. If you want to help me get back to La Vallée before we are discovered, then you must do so from the shadows."

"As you command," Victoria said, bowing a little at the waist, her voice quivering with emotional strain. "Dear Eru how could they have done that to her?" As if she could no longer handle it, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she collapsed into Sebastian's waiting arms.

The smoldering gaze of the guard met Bréil's own. "She had to know," he commented shortly, before turning sharply on heel to go look for a few herbs he needed. He was not afraid to leave Alenor alone, he knew that neither Victoria nor Sebastian would touch her.


	17. Este

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

**A/N:** My deepest apologies for haven't updated in forever! And there are no excuses I can offer for the lateness of the chapter, except for a killer writer's block. Hope this makes it up to everyone! Please drop a review and let me know what you think, criticism or ideas are great appreciated!

Fate's Paths-Chap16-Este-

Alenor was overwhelmed by the senses and smells tingling across her skin and nose. She wasn't afraid. There seemed no room for fright in this quiet tranquil place. She didn't know where she was, but it was magical.

Flowerbeds, full to bursting with ripe colors and fragrances lined the cobbled pathway she walked. Above her head stretched the boughs of trees, trees that looked oddly like the mellyrn. Birds twittered from their nests or flew overhead, a few curious ones swooped low to briefly alight on her outstretched hand.

But it was not the beauty that was truly the most beautiful thing. It was peace. There were no hidden fears in her mind. No hidden pain to trap her when she tried to walk or breathe.

"You are not dead child."

Startled, but not afraid, Alenor turned around. her eyes went big. "My lady!" she murmured reverently, dipping into a low curtsey. For the first time she was aware of the satiny green dress that covered her. She could make out a border trim of golden vines on the hem, as she kept her head lowered. Her feet were bare.

"Do not bow to me child," the woman smiled, taking Alenor's hand and helping her stand. "Look me in the eyes."

Alenor tried, but felt that she could not. How could she look upon one of the Valar when she was so much lower then them? She was Second born from Eru, she was never meant to see them. "I am too humbled to look upon you."

"Nonsense child," the Lady smiled. "I am awed by your politeness."

Alenor blushed, and tugged her hand, realizing then that the Valier still held it.

"Do you know my name child?" she asked gently, pulling Alenor along as she began walking the paths of the garden.

"Estë," Alenor replied dutifully. She resigned herself to the fact that the Lady wasn't going to release her hand. "If I may, my lady?"

Estë, smiled amused. "You need not go into formalities child. I am known as Estë, nothing more."

"Yes my lady…I mean, Estë," Alenor said, mortified. "My question….can I…?" She peeked up from under her lashes and saw that Estë was watching her. She quickly looked down again. "I mean…am I dreaming?"

"In a sense," Estë murmured, looking around. "It is complicated child."

Alenor tilted her head, showing she would not press. "I am still unworthy my…. Estë to be in your presence."

Smiling thoughtfully the Lady stopped. "See this flower Alenor?"

Alenor looked in the direction the Valier pointed and nodded. "It's a Dragon snap," she answered. A faint smile touched her lips. "But I do not see what you mean."

"The flower is a tiny thing," Estë answered, releasing Alenor's hand. She bent down and reverently touched the leaves. Her grey raiment shifted musically with her movements. "It is tinier then you, less significant and yet it does not wonder if it has any right in beholding me."

"I'm afraid I do not understand Estë."

"No, I did not think you would, I speak in riddles," she straightened. "Men were meant to look upon the beauty of Valinor. It was not the Valar that forbade this; it was Man himself and his greed."

"We are not all greedy," Alenor countered in a soft voice.

"No, that is true," Estë answered. "There are some, many even, that would not seek to taint Valinor and in such the judgment upon your race is unfair."

"You are still speaking in riddles, my lady. I am still a child in the eyes of the Elves."

"That you are. Forgive me," Estë continued again, motioning Alenor to follow. "What I meant to say, child, is that because of a few foolish mistakes of your ancestors it is meant to believe that none of your race may ever see us, or the land in which we dwell. It does not mean you are unworthy of seeing me."

Alenor bit her lips, struggling to follow. Estë was still speaking in riddles, or so it sounded like to her.

Estë glanced over and saw that the young girl was making no sense of her words. "A flower, child, may look upon me without shame. A flower comes with its bad sides and its good sides, and yet if we only look at the bad then the gardens would be gone and there would be no beauty. You see child?"

"I am beginning to," Alenor answered. "You are saying that some of my ancestors made the wrong choice and in doing so we were shunned, and no thought was given to those that did no wrong. The gates were closed to us and in doing so you have led the light of Valinor fade from our hearts, much like the gardens would die if we only looked at those bad flowers? Yet it means there are few in which that light does not fade, and so we let Valinor live and let the Valar see us as actual people."

"Yes child that is what I am saying. Perhaps you have said it better then me."

"I do not think so, I put it into a way I could understand," Alenor answered, immediately disagreeing. She glanced up quickly, and was glad to notice that her quick peek had gone unnoticed. "Is that a fountain I hear?"

"It is would you like to see it?"

Alenor nodded. "I would." She let Estë lead her and the faint sounds of water splashing grew clearer. "Why am I here?"

Estë smiled secretly. "I wondered when we could get to that child. We are here for a multiple of reasons."

"Am I allowed to hear any of these reasons?" Alenor questioned. She noticed the path before her changed subtly. From a smooth gold cobbled path, it drifted into a vast plain of bluish marble with darker veins of the same color threading through it. With each shift of the leaves above it moved the shadows on the marble, making it seem as if it were actually water she was about to tread on. Alenor gasped and raised her eyes.

Having waited patiently for the child to realize where she was Estë, continued across the square and toward the fountain. "You are here in part because of Celebrian."

"Celebrian!" Alenor gasped, her eyes riveted on the fountain. It was of a woman of white marble upturning a vase on a pair of laughing children as they lifted their arms and faces to the waterfall. They seemed to move, their features were so lifelike. "It's so beautiful."

Seeing where her gaze was drawn, Estë smiled. "It is my favorite spot," she said. "Are we not here though to discuss other things?"

"Oh yes, forgive me my lady," Alenor replied, sitting on the seat that ringed the fountain. She ran her hands through the clear pool. "I mean Estë! I'm sorry I forgot."

"There is no harm," Estë answered, sitting down. "And yet all this time I have not heard your name."

"Alenor." Mortified again, she looked down, twisting her fingers through the fabric of the green skirt.

"Nearly like the golden _elanor _flowers," Estë mused. "But that is not why we are here. Time grows short."

"Short!" Alenor exclaimed, jumping up. "Please Estë! Don't make me go back. I can't take it any more."

"Shh," Estë answered, her voice soothing. She patted the stone edge of the fountain. "Come sit down and I will tell you why I am here on Celebrian's behalf."

Obligingly Alenor returned to her place. Her fingers would not be stilled, however and she continued to pick at her dress. She said nothing, giving Estë a free rein to continue.

"Celebrian has the gift of foresight. And from her mother she was gifted a few minor powers in the ways of charms and protections. She saw you in trouble, and knew you were Elrond's daughter," Estë started, carefully gauging for any reactions, yet Alenor remained silent, her head bowed. She would not interrupt. Please, Estë continued. "When she saw this, and saw her own torture reflected in your eyes, she at once began creating a protection charm. It was a necklace from her childhood that contained many memories of love. When she was finished she came to me and my husband and implored that we give it to you. We could not resist."

"I do not even know my _Naneth_," Alenor whispered. "How could she have known." She paused, stiffening. "Did I interrupt?"

"No child, I am finished. Celebrian is very old and wise. She knew, just as you know the sun will come up in the morning," Estë answered smiling. "All that remains is to give you the necklace so you may return."

Alenor, realizing that she was twisted her skirt so hard that her knuckles hurt, released the fabric. "I'm so scared. I don't want to go back to that."

"To run and hide is what we want in the worst of times. But we can't always do that, sometimes we have to stand firm and meet the terror head on," Estë, reached behind her neck and gently unclasped a chain. "Take it child and wear it. All the love and protection that Celebrian could give you are here."

Quietly Alenor accepted the gift from Estë. It was a child's golden necklace. The chain was a fine braid of woven links. Dangling from the centre was a bird in flight. "You will give Celebrian my thanks," she asked quickly, reaching up to clasp it around her throat.

"I will child," Estë stood. "It is time that you leave and return to a more natural sleep." Bending over she gave Alenor a farewell kiss on her brow. "May you recover."

Bréil was jerked out of his sleep, fully alert. Something was wrong. Sitting up he threw aside his blanket, his eyes falling to where Alenor slept beside him. _She was gone_.

Leaping to his feet Bréil, threw himself in a full circle, not even looking. Where could she have gone? She shouldn't have been anywhere but those blankets. Her leg was still broken, her mind trapped. He was rotating again when he caught sight of her standing alone.

Panicked, Bréil hurriedly made his way toward her. She was standing on an outcropping of rock, staring out at the world below her. She was favoring her broken leg, only lightly touching it the ground. Bréil broke into a run, fearing she was going to jump.

As he came closer though, he realized his mistake. Alenor wasn't about to jump. She fingering something at her throat and gazing out with a thoughtful look.

"Did I scare you?" her voice was soft, lucid.

Stunned, Bréil was stopped in his tracks, a few steps behind her. "Alenor, are you alright?" he asked cautiously, afraid that her mind had taken some new form in its insanity. "Why don't you come away from the edge?"

"I'm not going to jump," she demurred mildly. "I came to think. Come stand next to me for a moment. It's beautiful."

Carefully Bréil made his way to stand next to her. She was right. The moon washed over the broken landscape of trees and sharp rocks. It was his home. Glancing sideways he saw that the object she was playing with was necklace. He was quite sure that she hadn't been wearing it before. "Alenor what happened."

She looked at him, and her eyes were oddly sane. Not alive and dancing as they might have been once, but there was no fear. She looked at the necklace she was playing with. "It was a gift," she murmured. "From Celebrian, my _Naneth_. She made a charm from a childhood necklace. It protects me from my fear until I'm ready to deal with it." She smiled, a little shakily. "I am grateful to her."

She wasn't lying. Bréil realized he was about to cry in joy. "Alenor," he couldn't say anything more. He was relieved. It wasn't a full cure, but it was enough to protect her until she came to terms.

Alenor looked at him, and there were tears in her own eyes. "I forgive you Bréil." It was all she needed to say, delivered with a touch of the child innocence that somehow still lived within her.

Bréil let go, and the tears rolled down his face. He should not be crying, knew it, but couldn't stop it. Despite all his fears, Alenor was going to live. Without thinking he hugged her, and she hugged him back, laughing.


	18. Danger in the Morning

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

**A/N TO ALL READERS (Anonymous and Others):** I don't want to sound like I'm bullying anyone into a review, but due to continuing lack of support to this story I will **discontinue** it, if people do not start letting me know what they think and/or give me criticism. In short, if you want me to continue **start reviewing**

Fate's Paths-Chap17-Danger in the Morning

The warmth that seeped through into her chilled hands was almost as refreshing as the hot liquid pouring down her throat. She moaned in pleasure.

Opening her eyes, Alenor lowered the worn traveling cup away from her lips. It was the best thing she had tasted in so long. Absently she released the cup to one hand so she could fiddle with the necklace sheltered under the clothing she wore. She thought she would never have the courage to take it off.

She could still feel the madness, the memories of her experience. They haunted the farthest rooms of her mind. Alive, pushed away, but not entirely. A thought, a remembered horror would still touch her, and for a moment her mind would drift, but Celebrian's charm, full of love and warmth would bring her back.

A soft snore startled Alenor from her broodings. Releasing the necklace's chain she glanced around. Bréil was preparing a morning meal on a smoking fire. He was silent; the only noise was his preparations. He respected the quiet she wished to have.

"Who are they again?" Alenor asked. She paused taking a cautionary sip, but watched him over the rim of the cup.

"I think it would be best if they explained that to you," he answered, jumping back as a spark flared at him. "As I said, their names are Victoria and Sebastian. Any more, and I will confuse you."

Alenor tilted her head. A soft plume of mist escaped her mouth as she blew across the hot liquid that resided in the cup. "It is almost winter."

"I thought you wanted quiet."

Alenor shot him a look, almost glaring again. "It was getting oppressive," she retorted. She moaned in pain as she shifted positions.

"Alenor?" Bréil straightened and started toward her before he fully realized what he was doing. "Did something move?"

"No, no it's alright. There was a tree root digging into…" she trailed off, blushing slightly. "I'm alright."

Bréil paused, as if unsure what to do. "Can I look at them?"

"Too cold," Alenor shivered, bringing the cup closer to her face. She bathed in the warm seeping out from the inside. Aware of Bréil's frown, she glanced up and smiled gently. "If there was more, I would tell you," she paused, but then added, "I don't want to be touched either." It was harder for her to keep the thoughts at bay when his hands were on her. She had nothing against him taking care of her injuries, but something in her mind rebelled.

"Bréil…."

Stiffening, she clutched the cup tighter as a momentary wave of fear lodged in her throat. Alenor gazed sharply toward one of the sleeping bundles that moved. It was Victoria, or so she guessed by the femininity in the voice. Catching Bréil's look of concern from the corner of her eye, Alenor shook her head minutely. She was all right.

"What do you need Victoria?" he asked, bending back to his work as a chill gust of wind threatened to extinguish his fire.

"I thought I heard voices."

Nodding, mostly to herself, Alenor set the cup next to her and using a relatively uninjured hand, levered herself to a standing position using the conveniently placed tree behind her. She was aware of Bréil's concern, but chose, for the moment to ignore it. She did not blame him for being worried about her current state but sometimes the attention he gave her was almost too much.

"Victoria? Bréil said that was your name. I think I know you," Alenor said hesitantly, limping toward the woman who had, at the sound of her voice jerked into a sitting position. She was elderly, but unbowed by it. Stern, yet soft. Old yet young. Alenor saw it all in that one glance that the woman gave her before shock and recognition overruled it.

"Alenor." A hand fluttered to her lips. "Bless Eru, what happened?"

"My _Naneth_ gave me a charm to keep my past behind," Alenor said gently. "Bréil, please, I need help."

Instantly responding Bréil moved over and touching her as little possible he helped her sit. Nevertheless he felt her flinch under his fingers. It was involuntary, but it did not stop the revulsion that threatened to consume him as he was reminded, yet again that he had part in doing her harm.

"Bréil."

Alenor responded herself as she felt the ground firmly behind her. Bréil's fingers lingered on her shoulders. "Its all right. I'm sitting," she assured him. "Victoria wants to talk to me."

"Of course. I'll finish breakfast," Bréil, shot a warning glance at Victoria and returned to his duties. It was a look that Alenor failed to see.

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence between the women. Nervous, Alenor's hand had dropped to her throat and her fingers twisted through the chain. Victoria watched her in silence, her eyes scanning for something Alenor couldn't know.

"You said your _Naneth _gave you that," Victoria said at last. "Which _Naneth_?"

Confused, Alenor tilted her head. "Celebrian. She is Elrond's wife." She knew the moment she had said it that she had somehow hurt Victoria's feelings. "I'm afraid to say I do not understand this."

"You speak calmly, and wisely for one of such young age."

"Yes, well, the Elves will do that to you," Alenor replied. She bit her lower lip and looked down. A heartache rose inside her. She missed her brothers and grudgingly also their pranks. She was almost missing the lessons with Erestor. Almost, but not quite. She found it so odd what someone noticed when they were away from home.

"Do you remember your real Mother?" Victoria asked. She glanced sideways as Sebastian unrolled himself from his bedroll, but he said nothing. Instead he silently went to Bréil to assist him.

"My real Mother?" Alenor demanded, suddenly angry. "I don't want to talk about that. How dare you bring it up! Who told you?"

"Alenor," Victoria reached out desperately. She grabbed Alenor's hands even as she tried to tug them away. "You're a Numorean don't you know that?"

"Lord Elrond told me," Alenor answered coldly. She didn't try to pull away again. It only caused the tendrils of pain to wrap around her back and shoulders. She had no wish for them to tighten their grip on her. "What does this have to do with you? Release me!"

Startled by the tone of voice, Victoria let her go and leaned back. "Child," it was a broken plea. "Don't you recognize me? I'm your Grandmother."

Alenor froze half in the act of attempting to stand. She had gritted her teeth against the pain, and was suddenly glad for it. It stopped her from speaking in surprise, shock, confusion and anger. How dare Victoria indicate she was related to her?

"Bréil," she whispered, managing to get the sound out. Her head was spinning. She wanted to get away from Victoria. Wanted to get away from the sudden little comparison details she was picking up. It was insanity.

"Victoria! I can't believe you thrust this upon her. Alenor is barely in any state to listen to this." Bréil rushed over and eased Alenor into his arms.

"She needed to know."

Alenor turned her head away, burying it into Bréil's warm shoulder. She was shaking, she knew only by the pain that was closing in on her, choking the life from her. "Bréil," she coughed. "Bréil get me out of here. I want to go home."

Glaring at Victoria, Bréil soothed her, and walked back to the tree. The leaves had pretty much faded from its branches and early winter was creeping stealthily from the higher peaks. They had to move soon, or the gates to _La Vallée _would be shut for the winter. Bréil was aware of it, but was afraid to act upon it. Despite the unexpected help Alenor had received, it was still not enough to sustain her for the long days ahead, even when they were within the scouting rings. Besides, they would already be subtly pulling back to the city, leaving only one ring to remain outside for the winter months.

"Bréil, please, let me go home." Alenor looked at Bréil, almost begging him to awaken from his daydream. She just wanted to go back home. To Rivendell. She wanted nothing more to do with the fleeting fantasy that had caused her to imagine that there was a thread that connected her to her past. She wanted to forget it.

"You will," he answered her. "When the Spring comes. Rivendell is still too far away for you."

Alenor knew he had spoken correctly but she was less then pleased about it. "When the Spring comes?" she repeated.

"No later," Bréil promised as he started to set her down.

"Bréil! Don't set her down," Sebastian suddenly barked. "We got trouble. There's someone after us."

Jumping and letting loose a few curses Bréil straightened, with Alenor still in his arms. "Who is it?"

"I don't know. He moves with the shadows. He is swift and silent. But there is murder in his walk," Sebastian answered, pulling Victoria from her bedroll. "We must pack the horses and get behind the sentry lines. They will not allow this stranger passage."

Alenor straightened, despite the strain it caused her. The words engraved themselves in her mind. Only an Elf could possibly walk so quiet. It had to be one of her brothers. "Bréil! Bréil wait!" she called as he eased her onto a horse.

"Alenor, not now," he cut her off. "We're going to have to ride double, just leave everything behind, we don't need it."

"He will see it. Whoever stalks us will know for sure that we were here."

"We don't have time!" Bréil snapped, leaping up behind Alenor. "Take only what you need."

Victoria, bowing in submission to Bréil's command threw her bedroll over the other's horse's back. Quickly she mounted and a moment later Sebastian jumped up behind her, after putting out the fire.

"Wait!" Alenor tried to scream it, but the sudden lurch of the horse picking up into an immediate trot cut her words off into a gasp. Pain shuddered through her and unable to speak, she leaned back against Bréil, moaning. His arms wrapped around her and he whispered in comforting tones. She tried to tell him again that it could not possibly be danger coming but again she could not speak through her pain. Crying, she closed her eyes and hardened herself to the knowledge of once again being separated from her family.


	19. News in the Morning

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who gave me the push to continue. I would like to say, in response to a "disgruntled" review, that I **LOVE** writing these stories but I **HATE** it when I don't know if my readers are liking it or there is something they don't like. I write this partially for myself, but mostly for others to read, which is the basic root of why I was threatening to discontinue. But enough of me chattering, here's your reward, hope it's a good chapter for everyone.

Fate's Paths-Chap18-News in the Morning-

A soft winter breeze floated down from the Mountains. A pale dawn tinged the sky, lighting upon an Elven city, still sleeping.

The newly fallen snow, crunched naturally under his feet. Drawing his hood farther over his face, Elrond watched the dawn as he made his way down the spiral steps that led to the private resting place of his son. The snow was glimmering in the shades of morning happiness, but it did little to illuminate the shadow over his heart.

Elrohir hadn't returned. It had been months with no word on his well-being or his whereabouts. It had been months of worry. He still hadn't returned.

A blue jay fluttered from its proud perch as Elrond made his way across the shallow dell and to the great oak that dominated the center. A perfectly round piece of marble rested at its base, almost completely covered in snow. The headstone jutted out of the glittering white, proud and unbowed.

Sadness threatening to overwhelm him, Elrond made his way to the grave. Kneeling at its side, ignoring the wetness that seeped into his breeches, he loving brushed the snow away from the marble top. His fingers traced the familiar scenes that had been chiseled into the unyielding stone. They were memories of Elladan's childhood, happier times before sadness had consumed them.

"Elrond."

He had been aware of the footsteps trekking across the dell toward him. They had been painstaking in their effort to keep quiet, but Elrond would have recognized the tread anywhere. "I thought I told you to stay inside. I don't want that cold getting worse."

_"Adar_," Estel complained, a plume of mist parting his lips as he huffed. "I'm better."

Elrond raised an eyebrow under his cloak as Estel let out a rattling cough. "I see that you are better," he replied. "Why are you down here?" his hands rested on top of the marker, letting the barest touch of cold enter him.

"I think you should come up to your study," Estel replied cryptically.

"If it is more paperwork or Glorfindel, tell them to wait," Elrond replied, his tone hardly changing. "I want to remain here for awhile."

"It is neither. Elrond, please." He held out a hand, shivering. "I didn't come down here just to get a worse cold."

Elrond closed his eyes. "I thought you were still sleeping," he said instead, carefully skirting around the subject of what was in his office. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Everyone else is."

"I was so rudely awakened," Estel replied sourly. "_Adar_."

Sighing, knowing then that there was no way he going to get rid of the stubborn human, Elrond stood, letting his fingers linger as long as was able on the marble. "Do you miss him?"

Surprised by the question, Estel was forced to blink away the tears that had sprung instantly to his eyes. "Every day," he answered softly. He reached out and enveloped Elrond's hand in his own. "Come on up to the study."

Elrond shot Estel a look, but resigned himself to the fate of getting pulled along. "Did you take stubborn lessons from Glorfindel?" he demanded, his voice oddly calm despite the fact that he was demanding an answer.

"_Adar_, any lessons in stubbornness, I learned from you," Estel replied insolently, glancing sideways. He was disappointed when there was no flicker of a smile across his foster father's somber face. He sighed to himself, and kicked the snow away from his feet.

"So what is in my office?" Elrond asked, as he detected the sigh.

Reaching the stairs, he ushered Estel ahead of him, and quietly took up the rear, letting his fingers trail against the thin and wobbly rail.

"You shall have to see," Estel replied in a cryptic tone. Glancing back he picked up his pace, so he was taking the stairs two at time.

"Estel!" Elrond warned. "You're going to make the cough worse. Slow down." He winced as he heard a ragged, choking cough following by a weak, 'I swear I'm fine.'

Coming to the top of the stairs, Elrond shook his head as he saw Estel lying in the snow, struggling to get out of the deep drift. "My office?" he asked.

Estel nodded. "Elrond, help?" he asked weakly. "I tripped."

"I think you should get yourself out," Elrond replied. "I'll have Glorfindel come help you if you don't report to him in say….half an hour?"

"_Adar!_"

The howl followed the Lord of Rivendell as slipped in through an unobtrusive side door into his house. There were very few who knew about the recent addition of the door, and Elrond preferred it that way. It made traveling down to see Elladan so much more peaceful, people usually didn't see him.

Brushing back the hood from his face, Elrond let the melting snow slide off his shoes to run across the floor. The maids would have a fit later when they found the mess and they would complain openly. He would have to deal with it later though. Getting to his office, finding out what was in there, was on the top of his list.

A warm fire was crackling in the hearth, as Elrond pushed the door in a few minutes later. There was the restless activity behind him as a few early morning Elves stirred and wandered down the halls. In front of him there was silence.

Frowning, he closed the door behind him, looking for whatever Estel had talked about. He sure hadn't started the fire, but anyone could have.

"_Adar._"

Elrond jumped and turned around to see a shadow detach itself from the fireplace. The morning shadows were fading, but there had been enough to conceal the intruder from sight. "Who are you?" Elrond demanded, the voice who had called out was faint and tired.

There was a soft laugh as the intruder made his way to the desk. "So much for the hospitality _Adar_, remind me to come in by the front door next time."

"Elrohir?" Elrond gasped. He was across the room in three strides and tugging the hood away from his son's face, despite the shouted protest of surprise. "You're pale," he admonished, running his hands over his face frowning at Elrohir's pained look of suffering. "You have a fever! What happened? Are you injured?"

"_Adar_," Elrohir patiently captured his Father's hands. "It's been a long trip. I think I caught Estel's cold, that's it."

Elrond frowned suspiciously but stepped back to allow his son to breathe. He noticed he was the only occupant other then himself. "Alenor? You didn't find her?"

The cheeky grin and good humor fell away from Elrohir's face. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I tracked her as far as I could. I learned a few things, but I was never able to get close to her. I don't understand." He frowned. "It is confusing. In the Mountains there's a ring of sentries, I could not get past them."

It was startling news indeed. Sentries in the Mountains? Who would be living up there? "Then all we can do is wait," Elrond said instead, not letting onto his worry. He drew Elrohir close but the Elf struggled away.

"I want to see Elladan," he said softly, clasping his Father's shoulders. "The grave."

Elrond closed his eyes against the emotional pain. "We buried him in the dell you and him found when you were only Elflings. Remember the tree you had us plant there?"

"I remember it well," Elrohir replied calmly. He hugged his Father briefly. "I'll report to the Healers after. I promise."

"You will tell me more of the journey?" Elrond asked, stepping back reluctantly. The last thing he wanted to do with Elrohir now in his sights was let him go but he knew better. Trying to protect the Elf and shelter him would only lead to a worse road that would separate them. It was hard to step back, but he had to.

"Yes, I promise that to." A faint smile tugged across Elrohir's face, as he pulled his hood back up over his face, concealing it in shadows. "Don't work too hard."

"I won't." The shutting door echoed his words.

XxXxXx

"There is something wrong with him," Elrohir said, tracing patterns through the snow that coasted the balcony railing. His bare feet cooled against the floor and a dancing wind brushed his tousled black hair away from his face.

"Elrohir," Estel said through chattering teeth. "Get back in here and close that door!"

Elrohir glanced over his shoulder and smirked at seeing his younger brother curled up on the bed, and covered in an assortment of heavy quilts. "It is not that cold," he teased. It was, actually quite cool, but the Elf was not about to admit it. He had a fever, due to his own cold and was not enjoying the experience.

"_Elrohir!_" Estel screamed, ducking his head under the blankets.

Laughing, Elrohir made his way back into the room and shut the glass balcony doors behind him. Little mounds of snow were piled around the room, slowly melting down into water. "What is wrong?"

Estel's head poked owlishly from under the covers. "I'm freezing," he growled.

"Stop acting like such a child," Elrohir tossed back. He flopped down into an overstuffed chair, closing his eyes. It felt good to be home but it would have felt even better if Alenor had been there with him. The aching feeling of failure rose up inside him as he thought of her. Ruthlessly, Elrohir squashed it.

Estel stuck his tongue out but nevertheless stopped grumbling and to prove Elrohir that he wasn't childish, shed two of the blankets draped around his frame. He tried to stop his chattering teeth, but failed miserably, much to his brother's amusement.

"Estel, I can hear you all the way from the hall."

Estel shouted and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

"Glorfindel!" Elrohir greeted warmly as the Elven Lord closed the door behind him. "You must forgive Estel, he is not himself." He ignored the pillow that sailed over his head, narrowly missing him.

"Elrohir, its nice to see you back," Glorfindel smiled faintly. "Rivendell's been too quiet."

"Yes too quiet," Elrohir frowned and sneezed. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks as a round of sneezing overtook him. "Shut up," he managed to growl out as Estel doubled over in laughter.

Once the fit was over, he irritably rubbed his nose. "What do you need?" he asked Glorfindel, trying to ignore the slowly spreading grin on the Elf's face.

"I heard you were back, and came to see if was true," he replied with a small shrug.

"Its true," Elrohir answered. He didn't mention that a part of him wished he was still out there, struggling to return Alenor to her home. "Glorfindel, what is wrong with _Adar?_"

Estel and Glorfindel gave each other sideway glances. "Nothing," they replied together, a little too quickly.

"Don't lie to me," Elrohir snapped. "I know my Father. There's something wrong with him. He's more somber then usual."

Glorfindel sighed. "Elrohir, I didn't want to have to tell you, but Estel and I have been busy struggling with him. Your _Adar_ didn't take Ellladan's….Elladan's…." he broke off as if unable to say the word. He grimaced.

"I know Elladan's dead," Elrohir said softly. "I saw the grave. It is beautiful."

Glorfindel nodded, taking a deep breath. "Elrond didn't take Elladan's death well. He was gravely hurt by it. He's been slowly fading; we've been keeping him off the brink by sheer will. We try to tell him but he just doesn't seem to realize. He's withdrawn too, hardly smiles, and doesn't joke. I'm sorry Elrohir."

Elrohir nodded and released his grip on the chair arms. "Maybe now that I'm back," he said quietly.

"We are hoping it will help," Glorfindel agreed. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes," Elrohir nodded. "I didn't stay long." He stood up. "Maybe I should go speak with him?"

"Leave him for a bit," Glorfindel cautioned. "We've learned not to bother him in the Morning. It hurts worse then."

"This afternoon then," Elrohir agreed, not liking that he was being forestalled in seeing his own Father. He sat back down. "Then you might as well catch me up on the latest news.

"Gladly," Estel said.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Namarie," he said, and ducked out the room before Estel could drag him into the tale.

Elrohir let Estel's words wash over his head. Pieces he caught but it made little sense. He was aware that Estel knew his mind was elsewhere but was glad his brother understood that he needed a familiar voice to listen to. At the moment, his thoughts of Alenor had drifted away to be replaced by the urgent condition of his _Adar_. Only he knew how dangerous fading could be if you weren't aware of its touch.


	20. A Letter to Deliver

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

A/N: cowers behind a stone fortress PLEASE EVERYONE! Don't kill me! I realize how late this is, and my sincerest apologies! I've had the most difficult time writing this chapter…and no you don't want to hear any more excuses. So if you all don't kill me, I'll happily and try to make the updates happen faster. Sound good, or should I remain behind this wall?…..

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Fate Paths-Chap19-A Letter to Deliver-

Alenor closed her eyes, letting her chilled fingers tangle in the chain of the necklace that hung at her throat. A piercing cold mountain wind swirled around her, playing a game of tease with her hair. She ignored it, ignored the cold though it was steadily becoming harder to do. Tears that tracked down her face seemed to freeze even as they fell.

She heard the restless movement of the maid as she worriedly went about her duties but gazed toward the open balcony door.

"Miss, you're going to get snow all over your things."

"They're Victoria's things. She can replace them," Alenor responded, not looking over her shoulder. She ignored as well the sharp gasp that came from the maid.

"Miss….well….You have to get ready."

"I'm not going down to the dinner," Alenor replied, finally turning around and letting her frustration out. "Leave me be!" She turned away before she could see the hurt in the young woman's eyes.

There was silence then. Blissful, heavy, silence. Drawing in a trembling breath Alenor gripped the necklace, more tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She hardly dared open them, knowing they would instantly attach themselves to the blocked pass at the end of the valley.

"Alenor, you're going get a cold standing there all day."

"Go away Bréil! Can't you see I want some time to myself?"

"And get a severe cold and frostbite won't do that," he chided, slipping his cloak off his shoulders and draping it around her tiny frame. "Come inside Alenor. Spring won't come just because you wish it."

"Then I will continue wishing it until it does," Alenor replied, but let herself be drawn inside. There was no point in fighting Bréil, he wouldn't budge, as he would not budge even when he saw that rift he was trying to mend between her and Victoria was failing. He was her stalwart wall, always there when she needed him, her protecter.

Rolling his eyes, Bréil impatiently rubbed her shoulders vigorously. "Come down to dinner. You missed the last."

"And I intend to miss this one as well," Alenor replied pulling away. "They're so stuffy and formal. Its nothing like what I'm used to. Just let me be Bréil."

"Listen Alenor." He titled her chin as she tried to look away. "I'm sorry. If I had known…"

"I'm not blaming you about that. You saw danger, you saw me injured and fragile. You responded," Alenor shrugged, ignoring the persistent twinge that pulled as she did it. "I accepted that."

"And yet you're not healing." Bréil blew out a noisy breath, as he stepped away from her.

"As you can see, I've healed quite nicely," Alenor replied, hiding the fact that though only scars reminded of her torture, there was a persistent ache in her back. A souvenir she didn't want.

"Perhaps in the body but not in the mind," Bréil tapped her forward sharply as he came to stand in front of her.

"If I wasn't healing in the mind Bréil I would hiding in the corner and screaming my lungs out," Alenor replied, pulling the cloak away from her shoulders and tossing it at him. "And since I am not, you can very well leave."

"You clutch that necklace like it's a lifeline. You glare and storm around. You yell at Victoria. You're not acting yourself."

"How can you know how I acted," Alenor replied, her eyes narrowing. "The only person you ever saw was the frightened me. I've learned better. I've grown up. This is who I am, and like it or not Bréil it's going to stay."

"You're angry," the frustration drained from his voice as he crossed his arms. "Please Alenor. Let it go."

Caught in a corner, Alenor lowered her eyes and picked her way through the mess of discarded dresses that littered the carpet floor. Her fingers found the satiny material of her dinner dress. It was splayed across the bed, tangled and forgotten, and wet with the maid's tears of hurt. "If I let go Bréil. I have nothing." She was barely aware of the words she had spoken.

Sensing the pain, her stooped figure, Bréil stepped farther away. He knew better. He knew that despite the pain she was feeling, she didn't want him there. Didn't want him to try and make it better. It made her feel more worthless.

"Nothing Bréil," she murmured again. "Nothing. Would you rather me angry or a shell that breathes?"

"I would have neither," he replied. "But that is not my choice."

A soft smile touched Alenor's face, danced fleetingly and was gone. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't."

"When its time, will you let go?"

"Perhaps," Alenor murmured. She lifted the dress up and watched the dark material ripple. "Bréil, can you see a message to Rivendell?"

"You know the passages are blocked," Bréil replied.

"No, by bird," Alenor turned to him, clutching the dress. She had asked the question of sending a message so many times before that it had worn thin, but this, asking if they could send it by bird had only recently entered her mind. It was a sliver of hope.

Bréil sighed, biting his lower lip. "Sometimes," he replied quietly. "The great Eagles fly over us."

Alenor's head lifted. She had heard of the Eagles, had curled in her _Adar's_ lap many nights as he spoke about them and their leader. "They would surely send a message!"

"We can never be sure when one of their kind will pass us by," Bréil warned.

Alenor barely caught Bréil's warning as hope fused through her, warming and fighting back the anger that had kept her prisoner during the long months she had been in La Vallée. "But they would send one!" she persisted, clutching the dark dress hopefully to herself as she whirled to face him.

The hope shining on her face, lighting her eyes was painful to bear. Bréil knew he should have been delighted with this rare show of happiness, but he knew only too well how easily it could be crushed. He didn't have the heart to issue his warning again. "I'm sure they would."

"Do you know when they come?" Alenor asked, as she hurried to the changing screen that was discreetly tucked into a corner and covered with a lattice of trailing vines and singing birds.

Bréil's eyebrow lifted, doubting that Alenor was thinking properly. "Are you coming down to dinner?"

In the act of pulling her current attire over her head, Alenor paused, frowning. She worried her lower lip for a moment as she struggled with the material that had caught above her head. Drat it. She realized she had forgotten to unclasp the tiny hooks.

"Alenor?"

"I guess I am," she huffed, words muffled. Alenor gave a small choke as the golden links of the necklace twined tightly around her neck. "Blast Eru to _Udun_!"

Bréil chuckled mildly, as he bent down to retrieve the dresses from the floor. Under other circumstances he would have gone to help the poor girl, but at the moment it felt good to step back. For the first time he could feel the genuine warmth and delight that was radiating from her in pulsing waves. The curse, while hardly appropriate, was music, with the tone in which she had used it.

"Bréil!" Alenor shouted, struggling. "Can't breathe! Save me."

Chucking, struggling to hold back the real gale of laughter, Bréil dumped the heap on the cover-strewn bed and made his way smoothly toward Victoria's granddaughter. "I do believe your maid would be more appropriate for this."

"Blast the maid to _Udun_," Alenor suggested viciously, weary from the losing battle. "I hate these dresses."

"You're merely forgetful," Bréil, sighed and pulled the dress back down, so he could undo the silver hooks. "Now stand still, so I may undo these."

Alenor grumbled, crossing her arms as she purposefully tossed her head, letting her long hair ripple out in a wave.

"You seem in a good mood," Bréil commented, treading carefully as he lifted her hair over her shoulder.

Unsurprised, Alenor smiled happily, twining her fingers around the necklace. There was hope, at last. The Eagles...

"Bréil! Bréil! Lady Alenor!" an excited voice suddenly cried from the door. "The Eagles! The Eagles have come!"

It took only a moment for the words to register and a moment longer for her legs to move. By the time Alenor registered what she was doing, she was halfway down the hall, and caring not a wit that her dress was half undone. Nor did she care that she had left a stunned pageboy sitting on the ground.

The Eagles had come, like a prayer sent and received. Joy, joy that had been nailed shut beneath a protective layer of a stone fortress burst forth in a geyser that she could not put away. Alenor didn't care, couldn't care, laughter burst forth and she ran.

She didn't care that she didn't know where the Eagles had landed. It hardly mattered.

Hope had been rekindled.

Xx

Victoria stood, shivering in the biting wind that whistled down from the Mountain peaks, and played havoc with the warm fur cloak that had been hastily thrown over her shoulders. There had been no time for that, nor for a hurried explanation to her dinner guests.

Before her stood, Gwaihir, Winlord of the Eagles. His majestic wings lay folded, reasting neatly against his side, and his head was tilted in a gesture of politeness. He was alone; the rest of the Eagles were not present at the moment, out of respect for their Windlord.

"Our arrival is, as always, unannounced," Gwaihir stated, straightening his head. Intelligent, sharp eyes focused on Victoria. "Are we welcome?"

"As always," Victoria replied with dignity.

"Gwaihir!"

Victoria jumped, releasing her cloak so that it opened and snapped in the brisk wind. She shivered, struggling to gather the folds back as she turned and saw her granddaughter rushing from the Palace. Victoria felt her eyes widen in surprise and frustration. Alenor was without shoes, her hair flying immodestly, and her dress was half open at the back.

"What is it little one?" the Eagle replied, humor color his voice. He had noted Victoria's shocked expression and founding it all to his amusement.

Stumbling, Alenor nearly ran into the majestic Eagle. A cautious touch from his wing steadied her and she blushed, breathing heavily. "I…" Alenor stuttered off, looking at her feet as she felt the cold wash over her. "Can you deliver a message?" she blurted, not sure how else she could say it.

"Alenor!" Victoria cried, stepping forward. "How rude of you! He is a guest, not a messenger."

"Be at peace Victoria," Gwaihir said. He shifted and gazed down. "To whom would this message go to?"

Shivering and hunching her shoulders, Alenor danced from foot to foot. Nervously her fingers intertwined with the necklace links and she glanced around, suddenly nervous. "To Lord Elrond of Rivendell. My foster father."

Gwaihir jerked back, ruffling his feathers as he gazed down. This girl was Elrond's foster daughter? He had heard tales, and rumors about such a girl, but never had though to see her so far from the nest, or see her at all for that matter. He decided, looking at the way she played with the necklace, that it was a wrong thing to ask about. "Of course little one. I would be happy to bear a message for the Lord. He is a friend."

Another surge of joy erupted through her and Alenor gasped and jumped forward hugging the Eagle before she realized that it could be a possible rude gesture. Behind her she heard Victoria squawk, and realized that she was going to get in trouble later. That was later though, that didn't count. Here and now did.

Gwaihir tilted his head down, staring at the head of the girl who buried her face into his feathers. He shifted uncomfortably. "I would, under normal circumstances, take you to deliver the message personally, but the winds, are unfavorable," he parted with the information, clearing the way in case she asked such a question later.

Alenor back away, and shook her head. "I can wait till Spring," she said, saying it more for herself then as an answer. "A message is good enough."

Amused, feeling the exuberance emitting from her, Gwaihir leaned back contentedly. "Then get the message dear child, and get inside where it is warm."

Delighted, Alenor bounced on the balls of her feet, bowing her head. Wasting no time she darted past Victoria, ignoring the vehement look on the woman's face. She had no time to waste. She had to write the letter, had to tell Elrond and Elrohir and Elladan that she was alright…..

Reality crashed down on Alenor and she skidded to a halt, and nearly tripped. Pain that had shied away from the initial glow of light inched back, preparing to overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened their hold on the necklace. Alright? No, everything wasn't alright. She could still feel the anger on the corners of her mind, the fright that was held at bay only by Celebrian's charm.

Breathing heavily, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, Alenor felt the rest of the happiness fade away. What could she tell Elrond? What was there to tell him? He would want to know about her…he….Angry Alenor dashed a hand across her face, smearing the tears.

Heavy hearted, she started walking back to her room, the words, _everything is not fine_, repeating themselves over and over again.

What had she been thinking? There was no room for happiness any more. How could there be, after everything that had happened to her?


End file.
